


Personal Demon

by ThisWasInevitable



Category: The Adventure Zone (Podcast)
Genre: Aftercare, Alternate Universe - Demons, Alternate Universe - Witchcraft, Bisexual Duck Newton, Campaign: Amnesty (The Adventure Zone), Canon-Typical Violence, Demon Indrid, Enemies to Friends to Lovers, Enemies to Lovers, Gags, Light Dom/sub, M/M, Masturbation, Not specifically christian in it's mythology I promise, Oral Sex, Pining, Rough Oral Sex, Slow Burn, Spanking, TAZ Amnesty, Vampires, Warlocks, Wing Grooming, Wing Kink, implied duck/minerva, indruck, past duck/minerva
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-09-08
Updated: 2020-10-08
Packaged: 2021-03-06 20:15:33
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 15
Words: 58,926
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26364772
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ThisWasInevitable/pseuds/ThisWasInevitable
Summary: Duck Newton, forest ranger and part time, semi-reluctant warlock, thought is life was stable. But things are changing in his town of Kepler, and in his personal life. And he can't shake the feeling that something big is coming, something that could spell disaster for him and everyone he loves.Worst of all, a simple job earns him the attention of a demon by the name of Indrid Cold. A demon he may be stuck with, whether he likes it or not.Note: While I use language like demon and soul, this story does not take place in a christian mythology. Instead, we're going to be mixing and matching all sorts of myths and beliefs.
Relationships: Indrid Cold/Duck Newton
Comments: 19
Kudos: 86





	1. A Singular Town

The town of Kepler, West Virginia is uniquely positioned. Not in its physical location, per se, though the NRQZ blankets the town and the Monongahela National Forest surrounds it on all sides, making for a quiet, small pocket of humanity in the midst of a place that will one day swallow it back up. 

No, Kepler is unique because when the universe was unfolding and spinning out eons ago it overlapped the area with multiple planes of reality. This in itself is not strange, but the gaps between the planes were. And are. 

These gaps allow all manner of creatures and powers to seep into Kepler. The humans who first lived their termed them gods, the humans who came later declared them “angels” and “demons.” This latter categorization is slightly more accurate, but still leaves a great deal to be desired. 

The humans of now still use that shorthand, though they’ve learned to refer to the "above" and the "below" rather than heaven and hell, as those are the positions of the planes relative to Kepler’s own. It’s more coincidence than anything else that the denizens of the above are often protective and righteous, those of the below frequently cruel and greedy, and that ghosts of dead Keplerites have reported their soul ending up in one or the other plane after death. 

But even those dichotomies leave much to be desired, and much out. As do the terms “witch” and “warlock.” Some of those gifted with powers were born with them right here in Kepler, others migrated to a place where they could practice their work in safety. Or a place where they could enrich their power. This, along with the Above and Below, is how Kepler became a place of rifts, of duels, because when there is power to be gained, there will be conflict as surely as there will be those who wish the conflict to stop so they could have their dinner in peace and quiet for once. 

There is also the issue of witch and warlock being vague terms, and gendered ones at that. Some reject the terms entirely, going by new ones, others use witch to apply to all, and others insist that the old terms work just fine assuming you expand their definitions. 

Duck Newton is a warlock. He calls himself this because it was what he was told he was, and he spent so long fighting that designation, insisting that people must be mistaken and he was normal, powerless human, that by the time he gave into it the last thing on his mind was arguing over the exact label of his predicament. 

He’s come around to accept it. Mostly. Two decades will do that to a guy. 

Currently, he’s standing at the kitchen counter, going over the grocery list, when his phone rings. 

“Go for Duck.”

“Duck! How are you dear boy?” The voice of Ned Chicane booms across the line

“Fine, same as always. What do you need?”

“Ah, well, you see my friend, Boyd and I were looking over a new acquisition for the Cryptonomica and ah, that is-”

“He got me bloody possessed! Again!” Boyd’s voice comes from far away, not sounding entirely like himself. 

“Lemme guess, you need me to come remove him?” Duck tucks the list into his back pocket, figuring he can run by the Kroger afterwards. 

“I would be much obliged if you did. With your usual lack of fanfare, of course.”

“Was wonderin why you called me and not Aubrey. Okay, I’ll be there in fifteen.”

When he pulls into the parking lot, the Cryptonomica is dark, save for a small right spilling out of a window from the back-most building that acts as Ned’s house. The man himself is waiting for him on the porch, orange and yellow suit coated in a bit more ash than usual. 

“Wonderful to see you again, Duck.”

“Evenin, Ned. How bad is it?”

“A simple misstep, no more, I promise you. We didn’t even know the book was capable of summoning a visitor from another plane.”

“Which is why I keep tellin you not to read the Latin unless you know for damn sure what it says.” Duck steps around the Bigfoot display and past the exhibit displaying the tale of the Mothman. When they reach Ned’s living room, Boyd is sitting placidly on the floor, legs crossed and eyes shut, in the center of a salt ring. 

“Least you had the sense to contain him.”

“This is not my first rodeo, dear boy.”

“I know, that’s part of the problem.” Duck steps forward, feeling out the form of the presence in the room. Smoke, it feels like smoke and feathers around his fingers. 

When he hits the edge of the circle, Boyd’s eyes snap open, glowing bright red, and his face stretches into a too-wide smile. 

“Hello, Duck Newton.”

“Howdy. We tangled before?”

“No. But I have my ways of knowing your name.”

“Seems you do. You gonna make this easy and get out of my friend here?”

Boyd’s head cocks to one side, “Why should I? He is not a bad vessel, and it’s been some time since I was in this plane. That book Ned Chicane read from quite literally grabbed one of my kind at random. I was only slightly less surprised than they were by my arrival here.” Boyd taps his own chest. 

“Look, you don’t leave on your own, I’m gonna have to make you.”

“I would like to see you try.” That smile again. It has to be a bluff; this is a low powered demon. Boyd was able to talk while possessed, and a truly powerful demon would have at least tried to break Ned’s circle, seeing as it has no actual wards reinforcing it. 

Duck grounds himself, reaching forward with his magic. He can feel the shape of the demon now, sense his edges. Every spellcaster has their own way of removing demons from a vessel. Some push, as you would on a stuck door, others pull after lassoing it. Someone once told him they envisioned it like a Loony Tunes skit, drawing a black circle and dragging it so the demon dropped through it and out of the person. 

His preferred technique is to grab the presence by its scruff. When he curls his fingers around it this time, energy courses through him instantly, red and vibrant. And much, much stronger than he anticipated, tugging on his soul, reaching into his veins, and digging its heels into Boyd, refusing to leave. 

But Duck is strong, and more powerful than he cares to let on. Most importantly, he’s stubborn. So when the demon tugs on him so hard he’s almost yanked into the circle he mutters, “oh no you fuckin don’t” and grabs them, pulling hard and then there’s a hiss as something skids across the floor, Boyd crumpling forward with a groan when it does. Before Duck can cast a containment or banishing ward, the figure is gone. 

After a moment, Boyd looks up at Ned rather than Duck.

“Next time, you old git, I read the Latin and you can get fuckin possessed. "

\-------------------------------------

For reasons that escape him, Kroger decided to re-do it’s parking lot during summer, one of the few times Kepler gets busy enough to actually have crowds. So he had to park a ways away, on a less crowded side street. It’s as he’s walking, reusable bag over each shoulder, that he notices his shadow has taken on new depths. It also seems vaguely annoyed with him.

“Ain’t no reason to be sore, I pulled you out fair and square.”

“I am not upset, merely observing you, Duck Newton.” Free of Boyd, the voice has a lilting quality, striking him as almost detached. 

“That’s gonna get real borin real quick.”

Silence, then , “Hmm, it appears you are right. You spend your evening preparing dinner and watching T.V with someone.”

“How the fuck-”

“Did I know that? I have foresight.”

“Explains how you could get outta there before I even threw a spell at you.”

“Yes.”

Duck can see the car up ahead, starts reaching for his keys, “you got a name?”

A laugh, “Does that trick ever work?”

“Sometimes. Some demons are so used to human manners they answer without thinkin’. Makes it easier to banish if I got their true names.”

“I have been around a long time, dear Duckling. It will take more than that to trick me.”

“Watch it on that nickname.”

“I think it rather suits you. And since you did ask, you may call me Cold.”

“Ain’t it-”

“That joke you are about to make about the supposed temperature of my realm is not funny.”

“No fair usin your powers to ruin a punchline.”

“I shall use them however I please, Duckling.”

“I’m warnin you-” 

“Yes, you seem to be, small waterfowl, shall I get some breadcrumbs to-”

Quick as he can, Duck flicks his wrist, sending a new, stronger ward of protection out to encompass his shadow. There’s a yelp, followed instantly by a man colliding with the nearby wall. 

The demon looks up, horns and tail fading like mist. Silver hair falls halfway to his shoulders, red classes materialize on his nose to cover glowing eyes, and his face is all angles. When he stands he’s taller than Duck, leaner too. His claws fade to black-painted nails as he glares at him. 

“That hurt.”

“You’re a demon, pretty sure you’ll get over it. And you're supposed to feed ducks plants, not bread.” He’s about to open the trunk when his curiosity gets the better of him, “what’s your area, anyway? Since you said that spell grabbed you at random.”

That smile, much more unnerving on him than it was on Boyd, “Disasters.”

With that he’s gone, and Duck turns just in time to see his front tires go flat. 

\-------------------------------

“I know you’re there, Cold.” Duck adjusts his hat to cover his eyes from the glare of the sun, writing his notes on the specimens in this grove. 

No response, and when he looks up no sign of the demon. Just trees and wildflowers, a few cardinals and the odd butterfly and dragonfly. 

Wait a minute. 

“Nice try, but there ain’t no butterfly with red spots like that around here.”

The insect disappears, Cold standing off to his side, loose black pants and a white tank top showing off his lanky frame. A black and red sweater hands off his shoulders, and his glasses slip as he stares at Duck. 

“I was a moth, not a butterfly.”

“No moths like that either. And you owe me new tires.”

“No, I do not, you cast a spell to repair them.”

“Spyin’ on me, huh?”

“You interest me. And I like the taste of your soul.” He flicks out his tongue, grinning, and Duck points his pen at him. 

“Ain’t sure what it’s for sometimes, but my soul sure as hell ain’t for you.”

“But think of all the lovely things I could give you for it. Money, for instance, as I doubt this job pays all that well. I could get you a pile of money, or a new job, or a promotion.”

“Don’t need none of that, I like my job. It’s what I’ve wanted to do my whole life.”

“.....excuse me?”

“Didn’t see that comin’?” Duck smirks at the perplexed look on Cold’s face. 

“But you did not even hesitate. Are, ah, are you certain-”

“Yes, now shoo.”

Duck goes back to his notes, feels the moment when Cold’s presence dissipates. Wonders again if he should have banished him that first night. He’s always thought of demons the way other people think of spiders; not always pleasant, sometimes dangerous, but with a role to play in the world. When he has to pull them out of folks or places, it’s no different then catching a gossamer spider in a cup and tossing it outside. No need to squish it or throw it far away. 

But he’s a little worried that he wasn’t quick enough, and now Cold will end up taking up residence in the corner of his living room. 

What actually happens is that Cold shows up in the forest the next day, looking proud of himself. 

“I offered you the wrong thing.”

Duck ignores him, not in the mood for magical bullshit when he’s just trying to work. 

“Would you at least do me the courtesy of turning around and looking before you dismiss my offer?”

He groans, turns, and freezes. The demon is wearing nothing but a pair of tight, black boxer briefs, red eyes glowing hungrily behind his glasses. Duck doesn’t like that one bit, doesn’t like how the gangly angles come together to make something appealing.

“It _has_ been awhile.” The demon grins, stepping closer, “would you like to touch? I won’t even take the whole thing for that, just a bite-”

“No” Duck steps back, putting up a mild ward between them so he can’t get closer, “I got a girlfriend, which I guess you already know what with all the spyin. And we’re doin’ just, fuck, just fine.”

“Are you?” The demon cocks his head.

“Ye-yeah, fuck, we, things are, are so good-ish, not not bad, fuck, I mean-”

“What an abysmal lie.” Cold laughs, and it spikes through his stomach, puncturing the bubble where he keeps all his doubts, all his fears and he knows the demon can sense the wound, will start lapping up all the insecurities.

“Come now, Duck, there is no shame in wanting. No shame in things falling apart.”

“I will never want someone like you.” Duck growls.

The banishing spell hits harder than necessary and the demon is gone with a cry of alarm. 

\---------------------------------------

Indrid hits the ground outside his house with an undignified thud. Duck’s power still crackles around him, and he shakes his head to clear it. 

Full of surprises, that human. A rare thing for Indrid. And one he has no interest in letting be. He lays on the ground by the front door, hands beneath his head, staring up at the sky. 

“Oh no, dear Duck. You are not getting rid of me so easily.”


	2. Adversaries

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Indrid gets a drink. Duck sees things. Barclay signs in a new guest.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Content note: There is a mild description of a car crash in this chapter. Not graphic, but wanted to warn about it anyway.

The thing about souls is that they’re distinct, made up of a beings experiences, actions, hopes, and fears. Indrid has never run across a soul quite like that of Duck Newton. He’d teased him about it tasting delicious to get a rise out of him, but he meant it too; it was intoxicating, something he wanted to inhale and inhale until the universe burnt out. 

Duck’s soul was pine trees and the heat of nearly forty Kepler summers, asphalt, bitter coffee. There was something spicy in there as well, but Indrid suspects that might be his deodorant. It’s hard to tell with humans at times. 

It’s not solely his soul that brings Indrid back to Kepler a day after the warlock banished him back Below. Duck is palpably powerful, even if it’s understated, and defeating someone of his caliber, let alone dragging them or their soul back to the Below with him, would make Indrid impressive in the eyes of the powers that be. A boost in esteem he dearly, desperately needs.

Plus, if he conquers him, he keeps him. He could keep that soul wrapped around him, bask in the singular electricity it sends through him. He doesn’t need to eat souls (some residents of the Below do, and Indrid gives them a wide berth, a holdover habit from the old days), but maybe he could nibble on it, the way he’s seen humans nibble on each others ears. 

All of this is why he uses his foresight to track Duck to a restaurant attached to a small hotel, materializing from the shadows in the wooden chair across from the warlock. He’s in his work uniform, hat on the table beside him and book in his hand, thoroughly engrossed in what he’s reading. 

“Hello, fluffy duckling.” 

“Jesus!” Duck jumps and Indrid laughs, delighted.

“Oh dear, did that, ah, ruffle your feathers?”

Duck glares, “Bad jokes better be all your plannin to subject me to, or your ass’ll get zapped into the next county. And not by me.”

‘I beg your pardon?”

The human shakes his head, “You really ain’t been to Kepler before.” He jerks his thumb towards the sign above the door. 

_Amnesty Lodge  
This is a neutral space. All are welcome, but any fighting, dueling, etc is prohibited._

Curious, Indrid tries to conjure a small spell to pinch Duck, finds his fingers hot and numb, as if he touched lightening. Foresight tells him he would indeed be transported to the county line in an instant if he pushed it further. 

“Who on this plane or any other is capable of such a powerful spell?”

Duck nods towards a young woman with firey streaks in her black hair, nestled up against a blonde woman in sensible green overalls. There’s an immense, black angora rabbit in her lap, which she’s feeding bits of salad to. 

“I see…” He considers Duck carefully, recalling something he’s seen in movies and always wanted to say, “so...come here often?”

Duck’s eyes flick up from his page, “Yep. You just gonna sit there and bug me, or you gonna get your own seat?”

“This was unoccupied.”

“I know.” Duck bites out. 

“If you wanted to sit alone, why not choose a single table?” 

“Because this is our usual spot.” It’s a grumbled reply, but before he can hone in on what it reveals a tall, bearded man in a plaid shirt arrives at the table. 

“Hey Duck, you want the usual?”

“Yep, thanks Barclay.”

“And for you?” Barclay turns to Indrid. Indrid blinks at him, suddenly a bit self conscious.

“I, ah, I will have whatever drink is sweetest.”

“Coming right up.” 

Indrid watches him depart, turns back to Duck, certain he will want this information, “Are you aware your friend is a vamp-OW!” He pulls his shin back from where Duck kicked it, notes the human twitching from the shock he earned himself.

“Yeah, I know, but most folks don’t so shush. How the fuck could you tell?” His voice is hushed and, in spite of his heightened senses, Indrid leans closer to hear it.

“They have a particular scent. It’s subtle, like gravedirt or spoiled fruit most often. I thought one such as you might wish to be alerted to his presence.”

“I’m a warlock, not a fuckin hunter or some shit. Anyway, he’s harmless, seen mosquitoes that have taken more human blood than him. And he’s a good fella too.”

Indrid holds up his hands in surrender, “Very well.”

Duck goes back to his book, and after several minutes of staring it becomes clear the human has no interest in talking with him further. He taps on the table, jiggles his leg, wishes he had something to do with his hands. He finds a discarded newspaper, opens it in search of something engaging. There are horoscopes, advertisements for cars or work, and a large ad reading “Seeking a better, more peaceful world? Join Reconciliation. Meetings Tuesday and Thursday at 6 P.M in the old post office.”

Indrid rolls his eyes, summons a pen from a nearby purse and begins drawing in the margins of the paper, becoming so caught up he forgets to pay attention to Duck until Barclay sets to mugs and a plate on the table.

He picks up his drink, something sweet and fruity.

“Raspberry white chocolate mocha.” The cook says helpfully, before heading off to the next table. 

Indrid flicks out his tongue, wincing when it burns. Looks over the rim of the mug to see the human watching him, amused. 

“Itth hot.” He says, tongue still out in the air. 

Duck lifts his own, steaming mug and downs half of it. Smirks as he sets it down, “I’m tougher than the average bear.” Then he goes back to reading his book, sandwich in one hand, and ignoring Indrid. 

After several minutes of silence, the warlock adds, “How are you gonna pay for that? Don’t most demons avoid carryin cash?”

It’s true, since money from Below always turns into ash or frogs or something equally inconvenient when used on earth. 

“I have it under control.” Indrid smiles politely as Duck’s wallet appears in his back pocket. The human doesn’t seem to notice, which is odd, because Indrid foresaw him noticing it right away. 

“Glad to hear it.” Duck stands, remaining sandwich in his hand and catches Barclay’s eye, “I gotta head out, this one’ll pay the bill for both of us.” 

With that he puts on his hat and leaves the building. Indrid growls, checks the futures to see the total, and tosses enough money down to cover that and a tip on the table. Hurrying out the door, he spots his quarry rounding the corner, and glides through the shadows. Then he drops a containment spell on him. 

“Fuck, really?” Duck glowers as he tries to push the net of black and red off of himself. 

“Perhaps I was unclear” Indrid steps directly in front of him, staring him down, “While I can make plenty of trouble in Kepler, what I am after is you, Duck Newton. You will be quite the prize, and no doubt my fellow demons will thank me for removing such a powerful force from where it can impede them.”

“Look, Cold, I’m only a part-time warlock. You seen me, I spend most of my time in the forest workin as a ranger. I ain’t worth the trouble.”

“Oh, it’s no trouble. I am going to enjoy this.”

“Not what I meant.” The net unties itself, becoming green vines that ensnare Indrid, “meant if you think you can just haul me off to the underworld, you got another thing comin. Evenin, have fun gettin outta that mess.” He grabs his wallet from the pocket of Indrid's coat.

Indrid hisses at him, clawing at vines, “what are these blasted things?”

“Kudzu. Grows like nobody’s business. Like I said” Duck tips his hat, “have fun gettin out.”

\--------------------------------------

Barclay and Mama’s voices echo out the back door, laughing, as Duck walks to the clearing near the lodge. Aubrey is standing there, Dr. Harris Bonkers, PhD, by her feet. To most people, she is staring at nothing more than a patch of grass. But Duck knows better. 

“Sayin hi to the folks?” He asks gently. 

Aubrey nods, leans against him when he rests a hand on her shoulder, “It’s getting harder to remember their voices.”

“That fuckin sucks.” 

She laughs a little “No kidding. And, like, I know they had their reasons. I know they wouldn’t have gone under and left me for nothing. And I mean, fuck, I got lucky that they left me with Mama. Just...I miss them, y’know?”

Duck nods. His mom passed two years ago, and he only visits his dad every so often. But he got decades with them, got time to hash things out, time to say goodbye. He wishes Aubrey had gotten the same. Wishes he could help her get her mothers back. Wishes he could go back and ask Sylvain and Quell, as they were called to hold off for her sake.

But he can’t. Whatever spell they put themselves under, it can;t be broken. Not surprising, given their power, but frustrating all the same. So Duck, along with Aubrey and their friends, under the emblem of The Pine Guard, will do the next best thing; they’ll keep the sorceresses safe, keep them hidden, and keep the peace in Kepler as best they can. 

“C’mon Lady Flame, let’s go whoop Ned’s butt at Apples to Apples.”

As they’re all sitting down for game night, Thacker looks up from setting the stacks of cards in place.

“Better half not joinin you tonight, Duck?”

“Nope.” He prays Thacker doesn’t ask him to elaborate, and someone or something must be listening because the older man moves on to offering Mama GORP. 

Game night cheers him up, just like always, and by the time he, Aubrey, and Ned are cleaning up the table, he feels a million times better. Just as he’s putting the lid back on the box, the bell above the lobby door rings. 

The man who walks through it looks distinctly out of place; dark hair slicked back, dark suit free of dust or tree debris, and the kind of face that belongs in Hollywood, not Kepler. 

He spots the trio and approaches with a polite smile. Duck nods, “Evenin.”

“Good evening. I don’t suppose the restaurant is still open?”

“Nope, closes early on Thursdays. But the General Store a few blocks over still is.”

“Oh, wonderful. Thank you Mr…”

“Newton, Duck Newton, it’s a nickname.”

The man shakes his hand, “Special Agent Joseph Stern.”

“What brings you to our humble town, Agent Stern?” Ned is staying on the other side of the table, as if Stern might bite him. 

“I’m with the paranormal division of the FBI.”

“Gonna be plenty busy in Kepler then.”

Stern laughs softly “Well, I’m on a more specific mission. In, um, common terms, I’m a vampire hunter.”

Duck really, really hopes Aubrey and Ned are ready to cover for him, because if he gets through the next few minutes without having to try and fail to lie, it’ll be a fucking miracle. 

“That, uh, explains the star.” Duck indicates the small, silver Star of David around Stern’s neck. 

“Yes, it’s standard attire. No agents are allowed into the field without a talisman.”

See, the standard belief that crosses ward off vampires is, in Duck’s experience, extremely flawed. It’s not the symbol itself that has power, but the persons belief that it can protect them that does. He’s seen crosses fail and pentagrams succeed in warding off the undead, once saw someone keep a vampire at bay with a four-leafed clover. He’s pretty sure the only reason Holy Water helps him at all with demons is because his upbringing made him believe it does. Apparently the FBI has figured the same thing out. 

Stern clears his throat, “Um, who do I speak to about renting a room here?”

“You can’t!” Aubrey says abruptly, “there are bedbugs.”

Stern looks genuinely repulsed. 

“Yep, super big ones, big infestation, it’s been awful. Right Ned?”

“Most assuredly. Might you be interested in the Motel 6 downtown, I hear the service is excellent and there are no bedbugs."

“What the hell do you mean bedbugs?” Barclay appears from the hall, crosses his arms, rumbles, “I keep a damn clean Lodge and you know it.” He notices Stern for the first time and sighs, “I don’t know what B.S they just told you, but we have singles available.” 

If he notices Duck frantically trying to signal “stop” he doesn’t acknowledge it. Stern doesn’t see it, but that may because his eyes have been on Barclay since the taller man spoke.

“C’mon, I can get you registered.” Barclay waves for the agent to follow him towards the front desk, “bottom floor or top?”

“I’m certain a _vampire hunter_ would prefer an upper floor for safety.” Ned calls out, and Barclay trips over nothing, looking back at his friends in alarm. 

“Yes, my job does tend to get that reaction.” Stern smiles warmly, “but thank you for getting me signed in.” His blue eyes give Barclay an approving look, “I think I’ll like this much better than Motel 6.”

\------------------------------------------------------------

In the week since Stern arrived, Barclay has remained unscathed. 

The same can not be said for Duck.

Cold is driving him up the goddamn wall; knocking out traffic signals to create jams, making huge patches of poison ivy appear in previously clear campgrounds, and generally causing minor disasters in town and, more often, in the forest. When he’d threatened to start a small fire, Duck turned him into a frog and tossed him into the preferred fishing spot of the heron on Teal Pond. 

He got a suddenly empty gas tank as payback for that one. 

Through it all, Cold keeps trying to coax, cajole, capture, and outright drag him into the Below, no matter how many times it gets him banished or zapped. 

Tonight, he feels the demon in the air as he, Leo Tarkesian, and Dr.Sarah Drake are on guard duty over Aubrey’s moms. 

“Your shadow’s here again.” Leo says.

“Ignore ‘im.” Duck doesn’t even reach for Beacon, his enchanted sword, in spite of Cold chucking pebbles at the back of his head. 

Dr. Drake glances at the ongoing pebble barrage, “Are you sure?”

“Yep. He talks a big game, but he ain’t no more than a nuisance.”

This turns out to be exactly the wrong thing to say.

“ _Nuisance_?!”

Red fog surrounds them, and when he calls he can’t hear Leo or Dr. Drake responding. All he hears is his heartbeat and somewhere, far away, cracking and shouts of alarm. 

Leo’s voice rings out for an instant, frightened curse, and then Duck loses him again.

“Fuck, hold on, I’m comin’.” 

“No, you are not.” Cold’s voice, surrounding him, tone matter of fact and casual. 

His feet won’t move.

“What kind of cheap-ass trick-”

“Duck! Duck! Help, over here!”

He;d know his sisters voice anywhere. 

“Jane?” 

No, no it can’t be, she’s on a mission trip, she’s safe, she’s nowhere near Kepler. 

“Duck _please_.”

There, in front of him, is her car, upside down, her face bloodied and frantic. The engine's smoking, he can see sparks. 

“Jane! Hang tight, it’s gonna be ok-”

The car goes up in flames. 

“No!” He still can’t move, if he could just move he could get to her, he could still save her. 

It’s a trick, it’s a trick, he knows this and he’s screaming anyway. 

More voices calling his name; Aubrey and Ned, cornered by a demon with a thousand eyes that tears out their souls. Juno, trapped in the ranger station as it’s overrun by a mudslide. They need him, he could save them, he could help, but he can’t, he can’t.

He sobs, the sound surprising him, and collapses to the ground. 

Scuffed black shoes appear in his vision, and on legs that fight him every inch of the way he stands to face Cold. 

“Well, little duck, still think I am nothing more than a nuisance?” He’s grinning, triumphant and wide.

“You made your fuckin point, now fuckin call off the nightmares. Leo and Dr. Drake didn’t deserve this.”

Cold leans into his space, so close their noses nearly brush together, “Is that your way of telling me you can’t figure out how to make this stop?”

It would be hard to stop it on his own, he has no idea how the demon is even managing it, has no idea if this is the extent of his power. 

Good thing Duck has always had a straightforward approach to problem solving. 

His fist connects with the demon's jaw, sending his glasses skittering across the ground. Cold hits the pavement a second later and the fog evaporates. Before the demon can do anything else, Duck whips Beacon out into the air, connecting with his back. The cut is barely there but Cold hisses, eyes glowing with fury as he disappears to lick his wounds. 

Duck hurries to Leo, helps him off the ground as Dr. Drake climbs down from a tree.

“Velociraptors.” She says, shuddering, “I thought I was over my _Jurassic Park_ -based trauma.”

“You okay man?” Duck is scanning Leo for injuries when the older man fixes him with an unamused stare. 

“If that’s a nuisance, kid, I’d hate to see what you think is a problem.”

\----------------------------------------

His week goes from bad to worse. Currently, he’s limping home after an unexpected detour into the graveyard. He’d felt the kind of magic that made his gut go sour, and lo and behold there was another warlock, trying to raise some poor bastards from their graves. 

When Duck told him to knock it off, the man simply laughed and sent Duck flying backwards into a tree. Thank fuck for his durability; anyone else would be dealing with a broken back. Standing with a groan he discovered why the guy packed such a wallop; a demon, perched on a gravestone, looking pained. White symbols glowing on his arm, a matching set of them on the arm of Ducks new best friend. A soul bond. 

Soul bonds are controversial at the best of times. Many consider them cheating, taking more power than you deserve, while other view them as a means of increasing their abilities or using a being they see as inferior to their advantage. 

Duck has no interest in tricking a demon into an eternal bond with him. He’s never wanted that kind of power. He’s never wanted a demon looking wan and worn just so he could show off. 

It took three tries and a hell of a blocking ward to get the guy and his demon to scram, but Duck did finally manage it. The last thing anyone needed right now was some dipshit raising the dead and feeding Kepler’s fears about what it’s stranger citizens were capable of. 

He’s almost home when Cold appears in front of him, forcing him to stop. The bruise under his eye is bitterly satisfying with a chaser of guilt.

“Move, demon. And after that stunt you pulled, I suggest you make it at a run.”

“I was simply trying to prove that I am not to be trifled with. And that you should be more careful about underestimating your enemies. Which, judging by your current state, is something you have done again tonight.”

He wants to argue, take the bait Cold offers him and tear at it until he feels better. 

“Nah.” He waves his hand dismissively and the demon is gone, back where he belongs. 

And finally Duck is where he belongs to, opening the front door and greeting Ebony when she trots up meowing at him to toss her jingle-moth. 

“Hey, darlin.” He smiles, tired but genuine, at Minerva as she sits at the table. When she meets his eyes, home feels as warm as a prison cell. 

“I’m sorry, Duck. But it’s time you and I had a talk.”


	3. Getting Out

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Indrid goes shopping. Duck builds a boat. Barclay rings up a sale.

A talented, young warlock will employ the most complex, innovative, and powerful wards on their home.

A seasoned warlock who was never that excited about all this in the first place will employ straightforward but deeply aggravating wards on their home.

Indrid’s nemesis is in that second category. His wards are never fancy, but they’re durable and reliable, an utter pain in his tail to break down. Some cannot be broken by spells at all, and even a demon of his skill could burn through all his power trying to destroy them.

Which is why Indrid simply pays a passing human twenty dollars to kick a gap in the salt barrier surrounding Duck’s home. Then he grits his teeth passing through the Rowan trees bracketing the front walk and the lawn, his skin feeling like he’s getting a full-body tattoo all the while, and uses an oven mitt to open the iron door knob (the door is lined with iron, so he cannot slip as a shadow beneath it), hissing in pain as it turns and then running over the threshold as his feet burn.

“Duck Newton…” He lilts, certain the warlock will be terrified to hear his voice in his strong hold, “it is time to end things once and for all, dearest enemy.”

He keeps his eyes on the present, not wanting to spoil the fun for himself by peeking at the futures. There’s no sign of him in the living room or kitchen, though Indrid spots a black, furry tail disappearing under the couch.

“Come out, come out wherever you are, troublesome duckling.” He catches wind of a distinct soul, glides into the human’s bedroom, plants his feet on the floor, “your delectable soul is mine.”

“Ughhhh” a muffled sound, Indrid flicking on the lights to find the human face-down on his bed, “are you fuckin serious? Now?”

“Yes, Duck Newton, now” dark energy crackles in his fingertips, reaching out for the human.

_Thwump_

“Ack!” He shakes his head. Duck is now sitting up, preparing to throw another pillow at him.

“Get out.” Duck glowers, voice flat.

“You dare to order me-”

_Thwump_

“Get!” Duck’s eyes are wet, red-rimmed, and Indrid notices he’s in sweatpants and a ratty band t-shirt that’s damp in patches.

“Have you been crying?”

 _Thwump_ and his glasses are knocked askew, the fading bruise on his cheek aggravated by the motion.

“How many of those blasted things do you have?”

Two hovering pillows turn to four and all collide with him at once.

“Clearly you are, ow, in no mindset to, ow, duel me in a way that is, akc, fitting of my OW, talents. I shall return!”

He dissolves into shadow and speeds out the open door, materializing on the sidewalk and paying a passerby ten dollars to fix the salt ring.

And here he spent his two days of banishment planning his conquest in perfect detail. He ran through all the futures, having seen that Duck might indeed be low energy upon Indrid’s return to Kepler, and thus in a perfect state to be destroyed. He just hadn’t looked that closely, hadn’t seen how...sad he would be.

No matter. He’s not about to let a good plan go to waste. Which is why, one night later, he repeats his process, wondering how much it would cost to have someone stealthily cut down ten trees. This time, Duck is laying in the darkened living room. It’s sparsely furnished and decorated, not at all how Indrid imagined it. Not that he has imagined it. Much.

“Now, my greatest adversary, it is time to meet your end–why are you still crying?” He cocks his head as Duck magics the light on, glaring at everything in his line of sight.

“Because I’m in my own fuckin’ house and can do whatever I want.”

“But you seem upset.”

“No fuckin shit, sherlock.” Duck raises a throw pillow and Indrid covers his face far faster than he’ll ever admit in public.

“I merely mean that, ah, perhaps a duel would be a welcome change of pace?” Indrid taps his claws together.

“I look like I’m in the headspace to duel to you?”

“Not at the moment, but that could change, yes? I do wish to destroy you, is that sufficient motivation to shake off this fog of misery that’s hanging about your soul like stale cologne?”

Duck groans, but straightens, reaching over the arm of the couch. Indrid perks up, approaches at a safe distance, certain he will see a spell any moment. He’d even settle for that wretched sword.

What he gets is misted with holy water.

He hisses, wiping his face in a hurry. His power is so great and the mixture so diluted that it doesn’t seriously harm him, but it’s as if someone is squirting him in the face with lemon juice. He trills in displeasure.

“I’ve banished you worse ways than this, demon, quit fussin.”

“Yes, ow, about that, you could do with being more, pfft, courteous. At least tell me you are doing it rather than just tossing me between planes.”

Duck rolls his eyes, still bloodshot and tired, “next time I’ll roll out the fuckin red carpet or some shit but right now I’m fuckin tired and you ain’t worth the goddamn energy and you don’t wanna end up straight back below anyway. So, get.” He raises the spray bottle, spritzes him again and Indrid backs away, spluttering.

“You, you think you can threaten me, shoo me out like OW some common ghost GAh that was in my nose that time fine, fine I am going.” He stumbles over the threshold, falling on his ass on the pavement as Duck slams the door.

His whole body is numb by the time he gets back to the sidewalk. There’s an instinct to envelope the house in red mist, so that the instant Duck dares to leave it, he’ll confront every disaster he’s ever feared at once.

But he thinks of Duck’s face, in the instant before he remembered to be angry at Indrids presence. Indrid couldn’t make him more miserable even if he wanted to.

Chewing on that thought, he circles the neighborhood, finally stopping to buy something covered in rainbow sprinkles from an ice cream truck. Sitting down on a nearby bench, he watches families, couples, and flocks of tweens filing up to the truck. A dozen opportunities to make things go wrong present themselves and he takes none of them, too focused on Duck. What would bring him back to himself?

Indrid has spent plenty of time around humans and even more observing them. He’s collected some souls, knows the things people are willing to trade away pieces of themselves for; money, power, fame, sometimes sex or love. But this isn’t like that. Yes, he wants Duck’s soul eventually, wants to siphon it from him little by little, lick it up like a greedy, spoiled cat he once saw in a rich mans house. Right now he wants Duck to go back to being Duck; no nonsense, hard to faze, funny. Happy.

What would make Duck happy?

He focuses on the humans around him, searching for ideas. Notes that whenever one receives their food from the truck, there’s a spike in their happiness.

It seems a new plan is in order.  
—————————-  
“You wanna know Ducks’ _what_?” Aubrey taps her spoon on the edge of the potion she’s mixing, shooting Indrid a perplexed look as he hovers by the door of her cottage.

“His favorite food. I wish to cheer him up. Unless of course, you wish to simply tell me what is troubling him.” Indrid grins at the witch.

“You know the rules, Cold; I don’t trade information between sides. And, like, even if I did, I wouldn’t tell you what’s going on with him. It’s…personal, okay?”

Indrid sighs. He expected that answer. Aubrey’s home is on Amnesty’s grounds, thus under the same rules. Her parentage of one “light” witch and one “dark” witch means entities of all moral alignments will come to her for aid, hence her additional rule of not putting her in the middle of major conflicts.

“And why do you even care? Last I heard you made him see super fucked-up visions.” One hand is on her hip as she stirs the blue liquid.

“I am a demon, it is what I do. He should be more cautious about insulting entities he does not know well. And as for why, I...I want him to feel better.”

“Don’t we all.” She sighs, “French Onion Soup. That’s his favorite thing, from the Wolfe Grill downtown.”

“He likes that coffee fudge too, the one Barclay makes” Dani, Aubrey’s wife, adds from her spot spinning fur off of Dr. Harris Bonkers, PhD. Indrid is fairly certain the rabbit is her familiar and nothing more, as he’s never heard of humans granting animals advanced degrees. He uses the rabbit’s full title just in case (and it keeps him on Aubrey’s good side).

“Thank you” he offers a small bow, “that is most helpful. And, ah, you should know I have no intention of revealing who your parents are. Or that you are married to a vampire.”

All of the knives in the kitchen suddenly point at him.

“Explain. Now.” Aubrey’s eyes are flicking with orange light.

“I, ah, I saw you discussing it when I was watching futures. I, I just thought you may wish to know that I knew, and be assured that I would not do anything with the information. It, it seems to me you would want to know who knew those secrets and who did not.”

Aubrey glances over at Dani, who nods. The knives return to their normal angles.

“If I ever find out you blabbed, I will sew your mouth shut with Hawthorne thread.”

Indrid nods hurriedly at Dani when she says this. Apparently Aubrey is not the only formidable one in this relationship.

“Understood. You two really are quite a well matched pair, thank you again, good afternoon.” He darts out of the cottage, breathing easier once he’s on the path back to the Lodge.

“One pound of coffee fudge, please.”

Barclay, currently working the register, arches an eyebrow, “Isn’t that a bit more bitter than your usual?”

“It is for Duck.”

The cook freezes, “If you’re gonna use this to fuck with him-”

“Nono, I just want to cheer him up.”

“.......huh.” Barclay begins placing fudge on the scale.

Indrid crosses his arms, “What is that supposed to me--oh for goodness sake, this again?”

Barclay, wrong-footed for only a moment by Indrid getting ahead of him, shrugs, “that was a fucking intense spell to use on him. It’s the kind you use when you wanna destroy someone, not for someone you wanna bring candy to.”

He’s stopped measuring, and there are many futures where he refuses to sell Indrid the fudge.

“If I apologize, will you just let me buy the blasted confection?”

“Fine, but it’s not me you gotta apologize to.”

“Understood.”

Barclay gives him a look that suggests he’s not fooled, but rings him up all the same.  
\------------------------------  
Duck’s added more fortifications since yesterday, and Indrid only needs a few moments anyway. So rather than fight yet again with the wards at his door, he finds a sliver in a plane that lets him slip into Duck’s mirror, knowing from the futures that the human is getting ready for bed.

Duck senses him, looks up from the sink, toothbrush still in his mouth. He blinks once, the expression too tired to even count as annoyance.

“ ‘wat ‘ow?”

“I have brought you food.” Indrid waits until Duck spits into the sink to pass the two bags out of the mirror.

“Why-”

“It will cheer you up. It is your favorite. Then you will have your fight back, and be ready to face me once again.”

Duck takes the bags, then several steps back, “y’know, most demons would see this is a chance to get me while I’m down.”

“Well” Indrid sniffs haughtily, “I am not most demons. Besides, what good is claiming your soul if it was like stepping on an ant?”

The warlock looks at the food, then at Indrid, “I ain’t gonna eat this.”

“Bu-wha-I got it specifically to please you!”

“And it could be poisoned or cursed or some shit.”

“Why would I do that?”

“For the same fuckin reason you made me see the folks I love die in that fuckin mist!”

“I did not make you see that. I merely cast a spell to draw out your most disastrous fears. Everything you saw came from you, not from me.”

He’s hit a nerve, but all Duck says is, “Like hell it did. Not get the fuck out.”

Indrid growls in frustration, throwing up his hands “ _fine_ , wallow in your misery.” Then he’s out on the street again, ready to cause some evil. Or to go back to the Lodge and drown his aggravation in a caramel latte.  
—————————-  
Duck stares at the bags, still sitting on his kitchen counter. Then at the phone. Then at Ebony, asleep on the other side of the couch. Then back at the phone.

He could call them, any of them, and they’d answer. They’ve told him as much. They’re his friends, and he knows they’re worried about him. He did call Juno, the morning after Minerva told him she was ending things. Juno’s known him since grade school, let him come and hang out at her place while Minerva moved her things out. She offered to be the one to tell his other friends, in case he didn’t want to rehash the pain while he was still in the midst of it.

Duck took her up on it, returning to his now-empty house while she did the hard work for him.

He could call them. But he won’t. He’s supposed to be the strong one, the one who looks after the others when bad things happen. If he breaks that expectation, he doesn’t know what might happen. Going by the last set of expectations he failed to live up to, they’ll all leave him.

_“You’re meant for such great things, we both are, but you still cannot seem to accept that.”_

_“I had to banish a goddamn demon five minutes ago, what part of that means I ain’t accepted this destiny shit?”_

Christ he’s tired, but the empty bed is not comforting right now. Maybe he’ll watch T.V, or read. Maybe he’ll stare at the stucco ceiling and rethink everything.

If he’s not going to bed any time soon, he should at least eat something. Not the food in those bags though. Even if it’s his favorite. How the fuck did the demon know that? Probably the same way he knew everything else; spying on Duck, another source of Duck feeling like he never got space to himself.

_“I done everythin you encouraged me too, ain’t that enough?”_

_“I never wanted you to do it out of obligation, Wayne. I...I wanted you to want it, to embrace it as I did.”_

God that soup smells good.

He picks up a piece of amethyst from the bookcase, runs it over and over the air around the bag. No trace of anything dangerous.

_"I just wanted a normal fuckin life!"_

Fuck it.

Twenty minutes later his belly is full, he actually feels kinda sorta almost borderline happy, and he hasn’t turned into a salamander or been transported to the Below.

It’s the barest of comforts, but right now he’ll take what he can get.  
\------------------------------------------------  
When Cold inevitably shows up again a few days later, Duck doesn’t even look up from the model ship he’s working on .

“Thanks for, uh, for dinner.”

“How did you know I was here?” The silver-haired man steps out of the hall, eyes glowing faintly in the darkness.

“I may not be able to sense auras or souls or shit, but you and I been dancin around each other for long enough that I can tell when you’re the reason the hair on the back of my neck is standin up.”

“Then you are prepared to fight?” Cold steps forward eagerly, footfalls audible on the hardwood floor.

“No. Look, I dunno now how it is for demons, but takes more than nice food to make a fella get over somethin serious.”

“I see…” Cold looks around the room, “are you certain you are not interested in even a small bit of conflict? A trial run perhaps?"

“Nope. Busy.”

“Well I am not!”

“Can’t you just go find another warlock to bother?”

“No! Well, yes, but I do not wish to. You are my adversary, the one I devote most of my time to tormenting.”

“That’s kinda an exaggeration. And it don’t change that I’m workin on this.” He points to the model, “so I’m just gonna ignore you until you leave.”

There’s a huff, followed by the fluttering of his mail as the demon knocks half of it onto the floor. He glances up and notices that Cold’s tail is now visible and twitching with agitation. When Duck does nothing else, the demon knocks the remaining mail on the ground with a sweep of his arm.

“That ain’t changin my mind.”

A roll of glass on tile, Cold pushing a water glass towards the edge of the counter with his finger.

“Y’won’t like what happens if you do that.”

The glass tips over. As water spills onto the floor, Duck summons a towel with one hand and a dish of salt with the other. Before the demon can stop him, he draws a salt circle, trapping him in a small spot by the table.

“Erase that _this instant_.”

“Nope. You been poppin in and out the last two weeks and not leavin when I ask nicely, so now you’re gonna stay right here until I decide you can go.”

The demon drops down onto the floor, arms crossed and tail thrashing, “I just do not see what is so severe it makes you uninterested in anything but work, sleep, and making ships that cannot go anywhere.”

“Don’t expect you to understand.”

“Yes, but you also will not tell me so how can you know if-” he stops, sits up straighter, “your romantic partner left you.”

Fucking foresight.

“That’s cheatin’.”

“That is what has upset you so?”

“Yeah,” he snaps, staring at Cold with an anger that isn’t really directed at him, “because we were together for six fuckin years! She watched me grow up, she was the one who told me about my powers when I was eighteen, who pushed me to use ‘em, and was my mentor and now a big constant in my life is just fuckin gone.” He leaves out the part where he’d felt it going for awhile, where part of him knew it needed to go but the rest wanted things to stay as they were.

The demon cocks his head in that way of his, smirks but says nothing.

“Nevermind. Don’t even know why I’m tellin you this. You’re a demon, love ain’t somethin you got a concept of.” He stands, retrieving another bottle of adhesive from the living room.

As he picks up the next piece, Cold murmurs, “It is not so foreign a concept as you might think.”

Duck shoots him an incredulous look.

“For starters, denizens of the Below can feel all the same emotions a human can. But more than that I, ah,I was a creature of the Above once, beings capable of great love, even if many of them do not utilize that capacity. I felt it often, even if I was not supposed to, even when my job demanded that I not. But more than the memory of that feeling, I have moments in which I suspect I can feel it still.”

“Like when you see someone do somethin real wicked?”

The demon doesn’t rise to the paltry bait, “When I go sit in a park, or the forest, and draw and watch people coming and going in a thousand little moments of mundanity, I feel something more than mere tranquility. Sometimes I go to movies or to concerts, to feel the swell of joy and excitement, and it almost seems as if I love those around me.”

It’s the last thing Duck expects him to say, and so all he can do is stare at him a moment before returning to his work. The demon, content with the silence, watches cross-legged. When his tail begins rubbing on the ground and his claws click together, Duck remembers their time in the Lodge, and summons scratch paper and a pen from their spot by the phone, depositing them inside the circle. The demon picks them up and draws, the scratching of his pen oddly soothing to Duck’s ears.

His stomach twinges, so he stands and grabs a packet of Thin Mints from the kitchen. Before returning to his seat, he stops and hands one to Cold. The demon sniffs it, proceeds to nibble on the edge before making a delighted trilling sound and shoving the whole thing in his mouth.

“You never had Girl Scout cookies before?” He sits back down, ignoring how cute that noise was.

The demon swallows, “No. I do not need to eat, and often only do so when passing as human requires it. Or when Barclay makes the food. Which is a pity; I really enjoy human cuisine, you come up with such interesting things. Now it is my turn for a question. Why are you making those?”

Duck looks at the near-complete model, “I dunno. Helps me relax, nice to just be able to focus on one thing rather than worryin’ about work or warlock stuff or dyin’ alone or if you’re gonna randomly turn up in my goddamn bedroom without warnin’.”

“Knocking is not exactly demonic.”

He says it so matter-of-factly, the smile on his face oddly earnest, that Duck cracks up. Giggles spill out of him as he rests his face in his hands. His elbows slip on the shiny tabletop, collapsing him forward, laughing loud enough to startle the cat from her hiding place. In the midst of it, he realizes he hasn’t laughed since she left.

“Yeah” he sniffs, finally sitting up while wiping away tears and still chuckling, “guess it ain’t.”

The demon is smiling again; the expression is not a knife glittering in the dark this time, more like candlelight peeking out of a jack-o-lantern.

“Will you show me more of your ships?”

“You ain’t gettin outta that circle that easy.”

“I am aware. But you could bring them where I could see.” He seems genuinely excited at the idea.

Duck stands, hands him the packet of Thin Mints, “I could do that, yeah. Sit tight, I’ll be right back.”

He decides on his two favorites first, sitting down on the ground and gently placing one in the circle. The demon carefully levitates it, spinning it slowly in the air to examine it.

“I enjoy the colors of this one.”

“Thanks, based it on the boat my grandpa used to have. Thing was sold years ago, but I spent so much time on it when I was a kid I could do it from memory.”

“A little duckling on a pond.”

Duck’s about to snap about the name, but Cold doesn’t seem to be directing it at him. And whatever he’s envisioning, it’s sending that same, soft smile across his face.

“Yeah. Here, this one is real neat too.”

The demon sets the first boat down, levitates the second, “it’s very elaborate.”

“No kiddin, I was pretty damn proud when I finished it. Jane gave it to me.”

At the mention of his sister the demon’s attention flits back to him. Carefully, he lowers the boat to the ground, taking a deep breath.

“Duck I, ah, I want to apologize. For that spell. I am sorry it caused such distress, though I maintain it is not wise to scoff at an enemy you do not know well.”

He snorts, “Yeah, sure, that was the only reason.”

“No. It was not. I am, ah, not considered a good demon by many. I am used to being underestimated. I do not enjoy it.”

“And I’m used to the opposite. Trade you.”

“Really?”

“No.”

“Apologies, I have been told at times I am a bit too literal.” The tail twitches, slowly, as if he’s trying to think of what to say next.

Duck would help him, but he has no fucking idea how he even got here, talking quiet and honest with a demon who’s been a massive thorn in his side.

“May I...see more ships?” Cold bites his lip, points of his teeth showing.

He’s there another hour and a half, listening as Duck rambles on about something no one but him gives a shit about. The demon asks questions, laughs and, stranger still, makes Duck laugh.

When he cautiously opens the circle, Cold steps out, smiles, disappears. Duck cleans up and turns in for the night. Waiting for him on the bathroom mirror is a message.

Thank you for the cookies.  
———————————————–  
Duck picks up the two grocery bags from the porch, locking doors and throwing up extra wards behind him as he walks to his car.

He slides into the drivers seat, sets the bags in back behind him. Turns around and finds the passenger seat occupied.

“Venturing forth at last, I see.”

“I ventured forth plenty.”

“That was only for work. You have been the picture of a hermit since you were dumped, Duck Newton.” Cold adjusts his glasses in the rear-view mirror.

“Have not. And it was mutual.”

“Shall we get out of the car so I can destroy you?”

“We could do that. Or…” he points at the bags, the demon peering into them curiously when he does, “we could take these two bags of snacks to a concert in the park.”

Cold bites his lip, staring at the bags like he’s solving a math problem. Duck holds his breath, already gearing up his spells in case the demon says no.

A seatbelt clicks, black claws turn into unassuming nails as they fold across a black-clad lap “very well.”

They find a spot under some trees, far back from the crowd. Cold is in his human disguise, but Duck would rather not risk being seen if his tail or horns make a surprise appearance. He’s also a little afraid one of his friends might be here and see him, and wonder why the fuck he’s out trying to be less miserable with an enemy rather than an ally.

He’s not sure of the answer he’d give. Maybe that he feels this is all he deserves right now. Maybe that he can’t disappoint the demon, as his expectations for him are low to nonexistent. Maybe that an enemy is safer than a friend when there are squishy, vulnerable parts of yourself you’d rather not talk about.

The concert is all movie soundtracks, and as the orchestra launches into the opening bars of the _Star Wars_ theme, Cold rifles through the bags, pulling out items and examining them.

“Sour Gummy Chairs?”

“I got the wildest shit I could find, since you said you liked how creative humans can be. Plus a few things I like since this is my dinner too. Here, try this.” He holds out a Samoa, Cold taking it from his fingers with his teeth, as his hands are busy opening a bag of Dr. Pepper flavored cotton candy. Duck wonders what would happen if he dumped the PB&J M&Ms into his palm and held it out. Would the demon just eat out of it with that pleased look on his face?

“Ooooh, are there more of those?”

Duck hands him the sleeve of cookies, and there’s that trill again. He’s treated to it many more times over the evening, getting an extra loud one when Cold tries Green River soda for the first time.

In between mouthfuls, the demon talks about this and that, flapping his hands when he gets on a tangent about moths (Duck suspects he’s been reading that exhibit in the visitor center over and over again while laying in wait for him). Duck only has to caution him once, when he offers to explode the vape pen of a nearby smoker.

The band is playing the outlaw’s theme from _Red Dust on his Soul_ when he hands Cold, now flat on his back, a white chocolate Twix bar and gets a dazzling smile in return.

At least he can still make one person happy.

As they’re getting into the car under the light of the half moon, Cold sighs happily, “we should do this again sometime.”

In spite of the previous apology and friendly behavior, Duck knows Cold should still be handled with caution.

“Yeah, we could. Just uh, don’t get your hopes up, okay?”

The demon nods, smile faltering, “Okay.”

Then he’s gone, leaving Duck to drive home alone.


	4. Bonding Time

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Indrid makes a request. Stern has some questions. Duck watches a movie.

All the books and websites (and Juno, for that matter) warned him about this. That he’d have stretches of thinking he was getting unfailingly better only to get knocked back down. He’s having one of those now, courtesy of the photo of him and Minerva when they first moved in that he found in a stack on his desk. 

He’s laying on the couch, Ebony on his chest doing her best to knead through his white t-shirt, when a voice lilts from the bedroom. Or, he suspects, the mirror in the bathroom attached to the bedroom. 

“Duck? Would my favorite small waterfowl permit me entry?”

It can’t hurt. Cold’s been behaving himself. Mostly. At the very least he’s treating Duck’s house as off-limits for fighting or disaster. He stands, trudges out to the yard, and opens the circle long enough for the demon to come in. Notices him clenching his fists against the discomfort from the other wards and protective items, and casts a deflection spell around the demon that he hopes he doesn’t read too much into. 

“I noticed there was another concert, and thought perhaps we could go. I, ah, I looked but there were no more of those outdoor movie screenings, at least not this month, which is a pity because that was rather fun. But the concert is still quite promising.”

Duck grunts, lays back down on the couch, face down. 

“...Or you could lay here like a felled tree.”

“I ain’t your babysitter, Cold, you could go without me.” He mumbles into the cushions, keenly aware of red eyes on him.

“I do, sometimes.” The demon huffs, “but I like going with you much better.”

“Ain’t in the mood.”

“Clearly.” The drumming of claws on fabric, “would you rather watch something here?”

Surprised, he looks up to find the demon perched on the arm of the couch nearest his head, Ebony eyeing him warily from her cat tree. Cold shrugs, “the futures suggest it might cheer you. Or at least not make you any more miserable.”

Torn between telling the demon to fuck off and asking the demon if Duck can rest his head in his lap, he settles for, “sure, watch whatever you want, don’t matter to me.”

Returning to his contemplation of the cushions as the T.V crackles to life, he listens as Cold flips through the five public access channels, then turns his head slightly and peeks an eye open as the demon crosses to the stacks of DVDs on the floor. 

Cold ends up on his hands and knees as he considers his options, pulling cases from various stacks before returning them. His tail is out again, and in a moment of madness Duck considers pulling it. Maybe the demon would like it. Maybe he’d let Duck do more. 

Fuck, he knows Juno cautioned him against it, but he might be in need of a post-break-up fuck with someone. Because there’s no way pulling that tail ends with anything other than getting his ass hexed, let alone getting laid. 

The static on the T.V is replaced by a menu screen for _Watcher in the Woods_ , and he goes back to pretending he’d rather lay face down than roll over and watch Cold. Shortly after starting the movie, the demon gets up again and Duck hears him padding around the kitchen, starting popcorn in the microwave and opening the fridge.

When Duck next looks up, there’s a small bowl of popcorn and a bottle of Surge on the floor within his reach. The sound of contented munching comes from above him, followed by a soft voice scolding, “nono, I do not believe small predators can have popcorn. Go hunt some spiders instead.”

Ebony _tumps_ onto the floor and proceeds to savage a nearby jingletoy. 

By the end of the movie, Duck is laying on his side, cradling the empty bowl. The T.V flickers off, and as he opens the wards at the front of the house, a cool hand touches the top of his head. 

“Goodnight, Duck Newton.”

And then he’s gone.   
\---------------------------------------------  
When Indrid turns up next Friday, it’s with a stack of DVDs from the library and a large smile. Which is reassuring, as Duck had to immobilize him for a whole afternoon two days ago when he decided it was time to make hornets nests appear at random through the park. 

“I would like to have another, ah, movie night.”

“Are those all rom-coms?”

“They are predictable. Movies with twists are not as enjoyable when one can see the future.”

Which is how Duck ends up ordering pizza while Cold cues up _Under the Tuscan Sun_. When it ends, he quickly asks if the demon has ever seen _Jonah Hex_. The answer is “no” accompanied by a delighted smile. 

Turns out heckling bad movies is even more fun with a demon. Especially when the demon drops his head onto your shoulder when you make a particularly bad joke.  
\-----------------------------  
The Lodge is packed. More importantly, it’s packed with people who are not Duck’s friends, and therefore will not try to talk to him about his feelings right now. Most of the guard is busy and while Barclay is technically here, he’s working and therefore can’t stop to chat. 

Someone else can, much to Ducks confusion.

“Uh, evenin Agent Stern. Help you with somethin?” He scoots his hat aside so Stern can set down his mug. 

“Actually, you can. Or I hope you can. Ned mentioned you’re a warlock.”

“That I am, when the situation calls for it.”

“Have you noticed an increase in, well, I hesitate to call it black magic because that’s reductive, but that’s the colloquial term, lately?"

“Thought you were here as a hunter?”

“I am. There have been rumors of either feral or outright malicious vampires in this area, and I...I want to find out if they’re true. To help keep the town safe.” His gaze flicks sideways, and Duck realizes the agent can’t stop looking at Barclay. Given the subject of their talk, that ought to worry him. Given that Stern looks like a teenager staring at the poster of their favorite heartthrob, it doesn’t.

Stern continues, “But that’s not the only reason I was assigned to Kepler. There are concerns that the balance of the town is shifting, that magic is becoming a tool to instill fear and harm people. That it’s causing chaos and disaster. I’m not convinced that’s true, but I need to investigate all the same. Oh, um, thank you.” He turns pink when Barclay sets a slice of peach pie in front of him.

“On the house.” He rumbles, winks and Stern turns redder. Which means he doesn’t see Duck raising an eyebrow at the cook, wondering what the fuck he’s doing. Barclay looks a little sheepish, but the stars stay in his eyes. 

After watching the chef depart with a longing look, Stern picks up his thought, “You’ve been here a long time; does it feel different to you?”

Before Duck can answer, the man at the table next to them speaks up, “If you’re seeking the truth about what's going on in this town, you should join us at Reconciliation.”

Duck doesn’t roll his eyes, but only just.

“I’m afraid I’m not familiar with that group.” Stern says pleasantly, though Duck spots the inquisitive edge of his gaze. 

“We believe Kepler could be a far more peaceful town than it is. That spellcasters and creatures from other realms are not necessary to our way of life.” He sends a pointed look Duck’s way. 

“The residents visiting between planes are not inherently harmful. And, I’d add, plenty of the trouble caused comes from humans.” 

“And they are just as bad, using power of all kinds to create god knows what. It’s an abomination.” The man spits out. 

“You’re done here.” Mama’s voice makes all three men jump.

“I paid for my meal, and this is a neutral zone. Your own words, Ms. Cobb.”

“That applies to those, uh, ‘abominations’ you were runnin your mouth about. I still got the right to refuse service to anyone. Out.” She jerks her thumb and the man gets out, grumbling about violent degenerates under his breath. Duck takes the opportunity to slip away; he likes Stern fine, but he’s still jumpy about talking with him. One wrong move and his inability to lie could put some of his friends in danger. 

“Glad to see you out and about again.” Mama rests a hand on his shoulder. She must have followed him to the back door, “you doin’ okay, Duck.”

“‘Bout as good as I can. Y’know, workin, tryin to rearrange the house, doin’ guard duty when you need me to.”

“Avoidin your friends.” 

“Look, Mama, I-”

She squeezes his shoulder, “I ain’t angry with you, Duck. Not disappointed neither. But I’m worried, we all are. You ain’t come around like normal, ain’t talked with any of us more than a little, not even Juno, far as I can tell. Seems to me like there’s somethin more than a break-up makin you spend all your time alone.”

Duck almost fucks up and tells her he’s gone out, and had people over to boot, before remembering that admitting a demon has been his main source of company might make Mama _more concerned._

“Start comin to game night again? You don’t gotta talk, but we’d like your company. No expectations other’n that, y’hear?”

He nods, “I can manage that. Same time as always?”

She smiles, claps him on the back, “you know it. Beat you so bad Scattegories your hat’ll fly off.”

“Lookin forward to it. And you wish.”  
\-------------------------------------  
Indrid munches the bag of tropical Skittles, contemplating how to spend his evening. The futures tell him Duck has actually gone out for game night, and Indrid has no interest in joining. Not unless he gets to sit beside Duck and suck out a little of his soul each time he loses. 

Suck it from a very specific body part. 

He waves the now-empty bag in front of his face to chase that thought away. Besides, Duck mentioned he didn’t enjoy people who never gave him space, so it’s to Indrid’s benefit to steer clear of him tonight. 

Well, if he’s not going to torment his warlock, he should do something else a bit demonic. Since it’s getting dark, he wanders towards the graveyard. If he rustles enough leaves and snaps tree branches he can make many people trip or drop things or collide with monuments in alarm. 

Turning up the hill, he flicks his fingers and makes a fire hydrant burst, just for the fun of it. The cemetery is oddly empty, no one about to frighten or cause mishaps for. So he conjures up a sketchpad and pen, perching on the steps of a mausoleum. 

Lightning strikes from a clear sky, hitting two trees. The next bolt cracks a headstone, the next splits open a gash in the ground. 

He’s going to take a wild guess and assume this is not a naturally occurring weather phenomenon. 

Indrid sees he has a count of twenty to take cover, dives behind the mausoleum and covers himself with the strongest protection ward he can manage. It’s as if the world is cracking open, the air turning to knives, and for all he knows it is because he needs his eyes shut to concentrate on not getting crushed or electrocuted. 

When the barrage finally stops, the graveyard is perfectly silent and the air smells like ozone. 

Oh dear.

“You!”

He whirls, and just as he foresaw, Aubrey Little is a few yards away, Ned and Duck flanking her. 

“I, ah, this is not what it looks like.”

“What is it, then?” Duck’s voice is gruff, his eyes disappointed. 

“I was just here and then the sky or, more likely, someone controlling said sky, decided to decimate everything it could.”

“And you were doing…” Aubrey is already conjuring a glowing net, and he puts up his defensive spells on instinct. 

“I was drawing and-” 

A bolt flies out of the air in front of him. He didn’t summon it, but it certainly looks like he did. And as soon as Duck’s blocking spell dissipates, Aubrey’s magic has him trapped. It turns out he was wise to avoid crossing her until now; he’s well and truly stuck.

“I, I did not do that, I swear!”

“We literally just saw it!” 

Duck sighs, “here, lemme try somethin’”

Deep green lines snake through the air, pressing against Indrid’s throat. A truth spell, and not a gentle one.

“I did not cause that bolt. Someone else is trying to hurt us. I was waiting to see if I could cause some minor disasters when it started, I, I was bored, because Duck-”

He falls to the ground, throat no longer clogging with words he’s compelled to speak. 

“Sorry, but this is not the kind of thing we can, like, mess around with. A being that powerful could really fuck things up.” Aubrey offers, more kindly than before. 

“Understood.” He’s not looking at her, his eyes fall only on Duck. The human looks away.

“C’mon, if we move fast, we might be able to track whoever did this.” They head back to the road, turning south in a hurry. 

If his pride and throat hurt less, he’d tell them that the odds are better if they go west.   
\------------------------------  
Duck is up to his elbows in the pieces of an IKEA dresser. Turns out a lot of the furniture was Minerva’s. Maybe he should have taken Barclay and Leo up on the offer to check out the thrift stores for some stuff.

Maybe he could take Cold into Huntington next week for a Target run. He’s pretty sure there aren’t Targets in the Below. And even though it’s only September there’s already Halloween candy out. The demon might like that.

Then again, he hasn’t seen the demon since yesterday. Which is unusual. He hardly knows what to do with himself without a distinct chill running up his spine as the demon brushes his energy against his soul.

He hurt him yesterday, he knows that, and all because he was too quick to doubt him. When he sent out the truth spell, there was no resistance. Not only was he telling the truth, he had no desire to fight Duck.

As he’s busy deciphering diagrams and wondering just how out of it he is for worrying about a demon, Cold’s voice comes through the mirror.

“I need to be let in right now please and thank you.”

He sounds pained, so Duck hurries out to the front yard and opens the circle, allowing the demon to pass through. He’s hunched at an odd angle, clutching at his back. Once they’re inside he strips off his coat, revealing a splinter at the base of his neck. 

Duck’s stomach twists, “Shit, what happened?”

“I materialized in the house of a well-prepared witch and was immediately backed into a Hawthorne bush. Lucky for me I am not a vampire, but gracious it stings.”

“Why come to me?” Duck is already guiding him to the couch.

Cold fidgets, winces, “I thought you might be able to help. Also it is movie night.”

Duck examines the injury; it’s a small splinter, but the skin is already red and sickly. It must be in there deep. But he’s healed worse things. 

“Should be an easy fix. Lemme get my tools and I can get to work.”  
————————————————  
Indrid waits patiently for Duck to return, more confident in his choice of helper now that he’s inside. He dithered on the pavement for fifteen minutes before remembering Duck, while not the only being in town who would help him, was probably the only one who would be nice while doing so. 

Which is why he tries not to hiss at him too loudly when he pulls the splinter free. The human works quickly, and soon a tingling salve coats the sore spot, taking the pain down to a dull ache. 

Rather than pull away when he’s done, Duck smooths his hands down Indrid’s back, “damn, you’re all knotted up.”

Indrid adds several more knots as he tenses to keep himself from crawling into Duck’s arms and says “I was trying not to move too much and aggravate the sliver.”

Duck’s thumbs rub small circles along his back, “here, I can fix that real easy.”

“You do not have to.”

“Consider it an apology for yesterday.”

“Alright.” He says softly. Duck’s thumbs and pointer fingers find the knots below his neck and he sighs. It would be nice to let all the worries and woes that twist through his body like steel cable unwind, but he’s not certain that’s allowed, or if this is purely part of repairing his injury.

“S’okay, you can relax.” The drawl is quiet and Indrid wishes he could catch it in a seashell so he could hold it to his ear and hear it whenever he wanted. He lets his head droop forward, gives in to the soothing rhythm of Duck’s breathing, the steady patterns of his hands. 

Warm fingers glide further down his tanktop and Indrid foresees where they will touch next. let’s his desire swallow up his caution. Ducks hands come down again on either side of his spine just below his shoulder. Indrid whimpers and wiggles in place happily. 

“Uhhhhh.” Ducks fingers pull back, hovering, “you okay there?”

“You are touching my wings. In a way. They, like my horns and tail, exist on another plane when not manifested here. Your fingers are near the base of them, and that seems to be the spot that makes it feel as though you are touching them here in this plane.”

“That a good thing?”

“Yes, but you do not need to continue if you do not waAAhnnnt” he gasps as Duck slowly, steadily, runs his fingers over the spot again, and again, and again and oh goodness how long has it been since someone touched his wings?

The human leans forward, giggling, and whispers in his ear, “you’re purrin’.”

“I am awarerrrrrrrr.” His tail and horns appear, understanding there is no need to hide here. 

“Didn’t know demons could do that. Downright cute, but then again maybe that’s why you keep it to yourselves. Bad for the old image and all.” As he teases him, one of Duck’s hands skates up to his head, petting his hair and stroking his horns.

He whines, pushes his head into Duck’s hand for more. 

The human hesitates, “Is this-”

“No Duck Newton, it is not sexual. It, ah, can be I suppose,but at the moment it simply feels comforting and pleasurrrrrable.” He purrs louder as Duck rubs the base of one horn.

“That’s a good, uh, good demon?” Duck is giggling again, clearly enjoying the absurd intensity of Indrid’s reaction. 

“Not a worrrrrrrd, Duck Newton.” The laughter is contagious, Indrid chuckling as well, which only eggs the warlock on. 

“Such a good demon. Bein’ so patient while I patch him up. Lettin me look after him like the sweet thing he is.” Duck coos, sounding a bit sleepy beneath it all.

The words pierce right through him, a thousand points of want, and Indrid gasps, whimpers, “Yes.”

Duck leans closer as the demon melts into his touch, “Lookit you, goin all mushy on me, so goddamn cute. Who knew you had it in you? You’re doin’ so well.”

“Duck.” Something is coiling through his veins, warm and ecstatic, as the human keeps up his stream of praise.

“Right here, demon of mine, just relax, lemme tend to you, there we go, you’re bein so good for me, such a charmin demon.”

Tears prick his eyes and he digs the claws of his fingers into the couch; he can’t, he _can’t_ handle Duck speaking this way but speaking as if Indrid could be changed out for any denizen of the Below. He wants to be more than a demon in his eyes. He wants to know Duck means those words for _him_. No, forget want, he _must_ know, the feelings flooding him are incomplete without that knowledge, and if they remain so he will wither away from unfulfilled longing. 

“Indrid, please, call me that.”

“Indrid.” Duck tests the name out, adds a hint of pressure to his touches, “Indrid, you oughta stop gettin into trouble, oughta just stay here and put your head in my lap. Let you watch every movie in that stack, keep you safe and well behaved” The human is getting carried away, growing breathless as he continues, “wouldn’t have to worry about a thing, Indrid, could just keep me company, make yourself a nice little nest here and be my Indrid, just mine, Indrid. Fuck, even just sayin that feels nice, don’t it Indrid?” He runs his fingers over the base of his wings and up one horn at the same instant he whispers, reverently, “my Indrid.”

Indrid cries out, the energy in his veins enveloping him utterly, wings of absolute darkness flashing into view for an instant.

He collapses forward, shaking, hoping the thanks pouring from his mouth are intelligible to the man behind him. 

“You, uh, you still doin’ okay–Oh FUCK!”

Indrid whirls, finds Duck staring at his arm. There are glowing markings on it, blue and black light fading into a facsimile of ink on his skin. 

“What did you do?”

“What did _I_ do? What makes you think this has anything to do with me?”

“Because this wasn’t there a minute ago! And you got one too!”

“I…” Indrid gapes at his forearm, where a matching symbol is setting in his skin. “Oh dear.”

“What?”

“We are, ah, as you always put it, fucked. Because this" he lifts his arm, symbols still glowing, "is most definitely a soul bond.”


	5. Working Things Out

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Indrid sleeps. Duck leads a tour. Thacker tries to help.

“How in the everlovin’ _fuck_ did this happen–wait, fuck, is Indrid your real name?” Duck’s voice is slightly hysterical, a tone unlikely to be helped by Indrid’s next words.

“Yes.” Indrid croaks out. 

“Shit! I thought you gave me another false one, or I never woulda kept saying it. I don’t want a fuckin personal demon, I ain’t that kind of warlock! What the fuck? Was this some kinda trick to get my soul where you could get at it!?”

“Absolutely not.” Indrid snaps, “I have no idea how it happened, and I am not exactly thrilled either. If we’re bonded, I cannot return home.” His mind points out he’d much rather stay in Duck’s house anyway, but he ignores it, fearing any sign of happiness will be taken as proof of guilt, “My power is suddenly accessible to you and, and if I understand correctly my emotions are as well. Besides, it takes more than an entities name to create a soul bond. Usually the spellcaster in question has to perform some kind of ritual and incantation.”

“Any of what I just did seem like a fuckin ritual to you?” Duck throws up his hands and anger zips through Indrid’s chest. 

“It certainly felt like one!”

“Fuckin _what_?”

“You clearly did something, this did not arise just because you used my name!” He waves the marked arm about wildly.

“Last I checked a fuckin backrub ain’t a spell!”

“But-” He stops himself, realizing Duck is right. What’s more, if he believes nothing else he believes Duck Newton would not bind another being to himself so permanently without checking first. 

He sinks down onto the couch, “No, you are right. It is not. Yet somehow it became one, or part of one. I am sorry, Duck, I, it just felt nice, and I trusted you with my name so it could feel better, and I never meant for this to happen. I did not see it coming, I, I cannot, I don’t understand…” He doesn’t know what else to say, but by the softening of the lines on Duck’s face, no more is necessary. 

Duck rubs his forehead, takes a deep breath, “We’ll deal with it tomorrow. Can barely think I’m so fuckin tired.”

“I am as well. I suspect creating the bond took a lot of energy from both of us.”

The human stands, heading off towards the bedroom, “I’ll, uh, I’ll be just in here if you need me. You good sleepin on the couch?”

“Yes, thank you.” Indrid pulls down a nearby blanket, arranges the pillows into a comfortable formation. As soon as Duck’s out of sight, pangs pulse through Indrid’s chest. It’s the bond, tugging at him and demanding he stay close to the human.

With trepidation he calls, “Ah, Duck?”

A groan from the bedroom “yeah, I feel it too. Get in here.” 

He scurries to the room, finds Duck stripped down to his boxers, leaning on the closet door to steady himself. 

“Soon as I stopped bein able to see you, was like my whole body went sideways, tryin to get back to you. Gonna go out on a limb and say it’s this fuckin thing causin that.” He lifts his arm slightly, indicating the marks. 

“Agreed. I, ah, hmmm” Indrid scans the room, makes his way towards the easy chair in the corner, “I can sleep in this. That should work.”

He must be exhausted enough to hallucinate, how else could he explain the future where Duck offered the space beside him in bed?

“Good thinkin. Here” he tosses him a large blanket and a pillow, “if that ain’t enough to be comfy, there’s more in the closet you can grab.”

Indrid nods, folds himself snugly into the chair as Duck winds down. It’s pleasant to lay here warm, the noises of Duck puttering around the bathroom and bed making him feel safe.   
The light clicks off, and he gets twenty minutes of peace. Then he’s itching for closeness once again; the chair is near to Duck, yes, but with his eyes shut he can’t see Duck and either his brain, the bond, or both thinks that is just as bad. 

“Blast it all” He mutters, sitting up with the blanket around his shoulders. Laying on the floor won’t work, he’ll have the same issue he’s having now. On the bed Duck stirs, snoring once before rolling over and snuggling a stray pillow. 

He can’t take that pillows place. That would be rude, would upset the human when he woke up. 

But it is a big bed. With plenty of space near the bottom. 

Quietly, he slips from the chair and curls into the empty spot at the foot of the bed. He’s careful not to touch Duck in the slightest. Just feeling his weight on the bed is enough, that intoxicating soul nestled against his own. Indrid closes his eyes and sleeps straight until morning.   
\---------------------------  
Okay, if Ebony is asleep on the pillow, what the fuck is by his feet?

Duck raises up on his elbows, finds the answer to his question in the shape of a familiar demon. Indrid is asleep, chirring now and then, his silver hair a mess and one of his horns bumping Duck’s ankle. He hadn’t looked at them closely last night, too busy getting caught up in his fantasies of Indrid living safe and well behaved in his home. They’re curved like a ram’s horns, but the pattern, the texture, those remind him of chunky moth antennae. 

Indrid mutters, bumps his head into Duck’s foot, the way he bumped it into his head last night. 

Fuck, he’s really kind of cute like this. 

Duck gets out of bed before that thought makes him do something fool-headed like brush Indrid’s hair from his face. 

Showering is uncomfortable, as is standing in the kitchen starting coffee; the bond pulls at him all the while, nagging him to stay close to Indrid. It also alerts him to the demon waking up, and he realizes he can feel confusion followed by want and hesitation. 

“Indrid? You want some coffee?” He calls, hoping that’s enough to signal that the demon has nothing to fear. 

He comes around the corner, adjusting his glasses and trying to make himself smaller. 

“Yes, thank you. With a lot of sugar.”

“I got some, uh, some caramel sauce left over from somethin. You want that.”

Pointy ears perk up slightly. Duck chuckles, grabbing the syrup from the fridge. They’re both subdued during breakfast; Duck has no idea where to start with any of this, and Indrid doesn’t seem to have one either. 

Plus, the bond is making him feel...vulnerable. Some fundamental part of Indrid is twined up with some fundamental part of him. All he can hope is that there’s a way to undo whatever fuck-up they created.   
\----------------------------------  
“Hooooo boy” Aubrey whistles when Indrid and Duck show her the marks, “well, um, the good news is you won’t be fighting anymore. The bond makes it so that any pain one of you inflicts on the other you’ll just inflict on yourself too.”

“Wait, really?” Duck asks, then yelps as Indrid jabs him in the side with a claw, only for the demon to hiss in pain a moment after. 

The witch crosses her arms, “If you two are gonna test everything I say, we're gonna be here all day and also you might die.”

“Apologies.” Indrid sits down, clicking his nails anxiously.

“If that’s the good news, what the fuck is the bad news?”

“Everything else.”

Duck groans, sinking down into the chair across from Indrid. 

“She’s not wrong, Duck.” Dani offers as she slips on her shoes, “most people who make soul bonds do it because the power gain cancels out all of the downsides. But you’ve always said you don’t want more power. Which means no upsides. Be right back.”

Aubrey grabs a book from a shelf above Dr. Harris Bonkers cage, flipping through it, “Okay, so because you did this ‘on accident’ which I still think is fucking bogus, you guys have like, zero idea what to expect, right?”

They both nod.

“According to this, for the first few weeks the bond will make it really hard to be apart. Really, _really_ hard. But I don’t think that’s gonna be an issue.” She stares pointedly at the table, where their hands are inching towards each other. Indrid pulls his back, slamming it into his lap. Which does wonderful things for Duck’s self-esteem, because now not even a demon wants to touch him. 

“Ooorrr maybe it will be. Let’s see, you’re also gonna be able to feel each other’s emotions. And, obviously, you could each call on the others powers if you wanted to, though it says here that tends to go better if it’s done collaboratively rather than, like, just yanked out of the other guy. And Indrid won’t be able to go back to the Below unless you agree to go with him. Oh, and don’t worry about anyone else knowing your name now, Indrid; if a demon is soul-bonded, nothing can trump that, so no one can use your name to trap you into anything.”

“That is a relief at least. I always preferred to go by Indrid than by an alias.” The demon says softly. 

“I just don’t get why the bond’s got all these other side effects. All kinds of spellcasters can draw on other things for power without havin to be all up in their heads.”

“Because a soul bond makes both beings formidable. So it’s gotta come with a price.” Thacker stands in the doorway, arms full of books, “Dani brought me up to speed.”

“I figured the guy with the giant library on magic might be able to help us.” Dani enters behind him, carrying yet more books. 

“Good thinking, honey.” Aubrey kisses her nose. 

“You see sport” Thacker begins sorting the books into two piles, one in front of Indrid and one in front of Duck, “soul bonds came about when spellcasters and beings of other planes realized they could give their powers a boost by linkin up. But nobody was fool enough to think folks wouldn’t abuse that power-up, so soul bonds are meant to have a real high price of entry. Most folks won’t admit it, but lettin another bein’ have access to your feelins is real fuckin scary, enough to deter plenty of would be bonders.”

“No kiddin.” Duck mumbles. 

“Things like the ‘I hurt you means I hurt myself’ effect are so you don’t try’n bond to your arch-enemy just to get ‘em into a spot where you can kill ‘em. Oh, speakin of killin’, y’all are functionally protected from most spellcasters and Below-folks.”

“How?” Duck looks between Thacker and the books as Indrid cocks his head. 

“If one of you dies, the other dies too. That was woven into the spell so a bonded demon couldn’t kill their human to escape. But it also means most spellcasters won’t kill either half of a bonded pair, and other Below folk won’t kill the human for fear of gettin in trouble for killin one of their own.”

“Woohoo! Some slightly good news.” Aubrey smiles, clearly trying to cheer them up. 

“Ah, well, perhaps not. I, ah, I am not, not exactly popular among my kind. It is a long story, please do not ask me to tell it now, suffice to say if a demon really wanted Duck gone, they could make a case with both their conscience and the higher-ups as to why my death was necessary collateral."

“Fuck.” Duck groans

Fear in the bond, and Duck’s been around Indrid long enough to spot him hiding it on his face too.

“I did not mean for this to happen.” The demon says softly, looking up at Thacker, “I still cannot even tell why it did. I was not tricked, there were no contaminants or coercions. It just happened.”

Thacker rests a hand on Indrid’s shoulder, “Soul bonds weren’t meant to be tricks, or things that kept demons trapped and servin a human. Soul bonds were supposed to be between equal, an alliance, that sorta thing. The process could happen losta ways, though from what Dani said yours is a real baffelin’ one that I can’t puzzle out just yet. Some demons described it as uh, hmm, transcendent.”

“That feels more accurate to what happened.”

“Glad to hear it. A soul bond ain’t a prison sentence, Indrid, not inherently. Just lots of nasty spellcasters out their who get it into their heads that a demon is just an extra-powered totem or some nonsense; half those books are about how to be bonded while still treatin your demon like crap.”

“Oh.” Indrid is shrinking in on himself again and Duck’s whole heart is aching. Worse, he’s not sure the bond is purely at fault for the ache. 

“I didn’t give none of those books to Duck, don’t you worry. I know he ain’t that kind of fella.”

Thacker smiles at him and Duck smiles back; Thacker didn’t mean that as a threat. He actually thinks that highly of Ducks’ nature. 

“C’mon, I’ll help you guys get these books out to the car.” Aubrey lifts one stack and Dani takes the other, Thacker continuing to explain the nature of the bond as they walk out to Duck’s vehicle. The drive home is quiet, just like breakfast was, and Indrid is still scared. Duck had thought it was to do with being in Aubrey’s house, being afraid of how others might react to the news. Now there’s nothing to be afraid of except Duck.

Once they’re parked he shuts the engine off, the sounds of the neighborhood going about a perfectly normal Saturday afternoon muffled by the windows. Cautiously, he sets his hand on Indrid’s upper arm. 

“Hey, you know I ain’t gonna mistreat you, right?”

Indrid nods, eyes wide behind his glasses. 

“And I, uh, I ain’t angry with you. Was last night, but now it don’t make any sense to be. You didn’t want this any more’n I did, and your as fuckin lost about what to do as I am. So I, uh, I just want you to know you’re safe with me, okay?”

“But, but I…” Indrid’s gaze darts around like a trapped fly, “you do not wish to be in a soul bond. And now you are. And stuck with me, who you do not wish to be stuck with, who will be nuisance and make it harder for you to have the normal life you wish to have and-”

“Whoah, easy now.” Duck squeezes his arm to calm him and Indrid’s hand flies up to rest atop his own, “yeah, I didn’t want a fuckin soul bond but I got one. And, uh, and well I, uh, I can’t think of anyone I’d rather be stuck in this thing with.”

“You…you mean that.” Indrid’s smile appears, soft and lovely in the afternoon light, “I, ah, I feel much the same. I can think of no one else I would rather be bonded to.”

The happiness in those words and on his face is too much, too earnest, and Duck looks down at their hands, “We’re gonna figure this out. Might fuck up a lot while we do, but I think we can manage it, don’t you?”

A nod, silver hair falling across his glasses, “I do."

They spend the afternoon grocery shopping, since in spite of not really needing to eat Indrid likes food and Duck likes buying it for him. Then they sit on the floor, Ebony purring in Indrid’s lap, as Duck works out the ground rules for the two of them living together. Indrid relaxes by the hour, even teasingly threatens to toss breadcrumbs from dinner at him (“yes, yes, I know they eat plants, but I enjoy the joke, duckling”). 

When it’s time to turn in, Indrid follows him into the bedroom. 

“May I sleep on the bed again? Or, ah, we could also try it with me on the floor and perhaps your hand over the side where I could hold it.”

“Pretty sure that ends with me rollin off the bed and squishin’ you. Besides, you ain't my pet or some shit, your my…” friend? Partner? The guy whose smile makes me feel lighter than I have in months, “...demon. Sharin a bed is small potatoes compared to soul bondin.”

The faint pink on Indrid’s cheeks suggests there was a future where Duck called him one of the other nouns. 

“I, ah, I am not sure I am comfortable with that.”

Fuck, of course, he shouldn’t have assumed-

“Being under the covers with you, I mean. I, ah, I am not sure I am ready for that.”

Something weird comes through the bond; Indrid’s not lying, but he’s leaving something out.

“I will just do as I did last night, if that is alright with you?”

Duck nods, climbs under the light blanket as Indrid crawls atop it. This time the demon angles himself so his feet are near Duck’s own. He magics the light off, rolls over, and tries not to think about how nice it is to have Indrid near. 

After a few moments, Indrid shifts, bumping their feet together. The demon isn’t asleep, tenses when he realizes what he’s done. Duck sighs happily, loud enough to be heard, and tucks his feet so Indrid’s ankle is hooked over his own. 

“S’okay, ‘Drid.”

The demon relaxes, trills once, and then falls asleep.  
\---------------------------------------------------------------  
“... _should avoid allowing a bonded demon to nose or otherwise press their head into the body. This is likely the demon trying to take more soul, as they are inherently greedy creatures.”_

Duck closes the book, “think that one got by Thacker, it’s full of B.S.”

“Mmm.” Indrid nods to show he heard him, eyes still glued to a volume entitled, _No Biting: A Guide to Getting Along with a Bonded Human._

They’ve opted to spend Sunday reading as much as they can, only stepping out to grab snacks from Leo’s. Duck was hoping to ignore the whole thing until Indrid stepped beside him at the register and apologized, sincere but stilted, for scaring Leo with the nightmare spell.

Duck should have known that last book was bunk after it suggested keeping Indrid on a leash if he was refusing to abide by the bond. He’d never do that to him.

(Unless Indrid would like it, silver like his hair and wrapped around Duck’s fingers while the demon squirmed happily under his hands).

Right now, they’re trying to confirm the second of two promising pieces of information found in Indrid’s books. They’ve decided that if a fact is found in both the books by humans and the books by demons, the odds are better that it’s true rather than superstition or bias. 

The first piece of information is that feeling each others emotions becomes less noticeable over time, due to those with the bond getting used to sensing another person’s feelings mixed in with their own. 

It takes another fifteen minutes of flipping through a more neutral-toned tome to find what he’s hoping for. 

“Here it is, ‘Drid! This says the same thing that one you’re readin does; the bond just wants us to be close or to be able to see each other, It can’t make us touch--or want to touch-- if we don’t actually want it or ain’t comfortable with it. Says, ‘the desired closeness will manifest in whatever way or ways the bonded pair are most comfortable with.”

Words cannot describe what a relief this is for him; he’s been terrified that Indrid will accept or seek out touches from him because the bond will hurt him if he doesn’t, not because he’s comfortable around Duck. 

But that relief is nothing compared to how he feels when Indrid, still reading, says mildly, “Oh good. In that case, may I rest my head in your lap?”

“Knock yourself out.” He lifts his arms so Indrid has space to lay down, the demon humming slightly when he makes contact. 

This is fine. Duck’s always been a demonstrative guy, always been happy to be part of totally platonic affection. If that’s what Indrid wants right now, Duck will gladly provide it. He’s missed being touched in the confines of his own home, those little, private gestures of affection that feed a relationship. And if Duck feels more at home just by having Indrid near, wants to scoop him up the way he used to ache to touch Copperheads as a kid, fully aware of how bad it would go but wanting it all the same, well, that’s nobody's business but his.

“Any thoughts on how we will explain this to your workplace? I will not mind being out in the trees, but someone is bound to notice me following you .”

“I got some ideas, and I bet Juno will too. She takes our work real seriously.”  
\------------------------------------  
“For fucks sake Juno will you quit laughin?” Duck pulls his hat over his eyes as his best friend continues cackling at his misfortune.

“S-sorry bud, but, but after years of bellyachin about bein stuck with powers, it’s pretty fuckin funny to see you end up with a demon on accident.”

“The irony is rather amusing.”

“Not helpin, Indrid.”

“Apologies.”

“I gotta get me a Duck Newton backrub, sounds like they’re real fuckin good”

“They are.” 

“Indrid please.”

Juno wipes away the last happy tear, “For real though, Duck, I got an idea. Howsabout we pretend Indrid’s a trainee? We might have some spare uniforms in the basement.”

“No need.” Indrid waves his hand and his clothes suddenly match Duck’s own, down to the hat and the boots. 

“Nice.” Juno nods, “Y’know, you’re much easier goin than Duck made it sound.”

“Thank you. I think. Well?” He turns in a slow circle for Duck’s inspection, and Duck suddenly gets the whole “man in uniform” thing.

“You, uh, you look good.”

Juno snickers, pats Duck on the shoulder, “I’m gonna go open up the visitor center, in case you need to do a more ‘thorough’ inspection of the new hire. Don’t forget you got a tour at ten!” She calls over her shoulder as she heads back into the main part of the building. 

Indrid stops adjusting his clothes in the window reflection and perks up, “Oooh, we’re going to see a fox!”

They do, indeed, see a fox, out late and scurrying towards it’s den as the tourists take photos. But only after Duck awkwardly introduces Indrid to the group as Ranger Cold and explains that he’ll be shadowing him. 

Indrid’s followed him round work before, or popped up to mess with him while he’s out checking specimens or taking notes. This, where Indrid is clearly listening (and revealing that he’s listened to Duck in the past when he’s talked about trees or native plants) and excited by what Duck shows him is even better. 

When they’re out in the woods on their own, Duck takes his hand without thinking, tries to pretend it’s only for the sake of the bond. Indrid trills, delighted, and intertwine their fingers. The bond may be encouraging it, but there’s no way that smile on Indrid’s face isn’t partly due to Duck touching him. 

This is why they hold hands as Duck drives home, and as they walk up to the front door, only releasing them so Duck can feed Ebony. As he does, Indrid pauses, hand on the fridge door. 

“There is a dog in the living room.”

Lo and behold, when they round the corner there is fluffy, black Pomeranian waiting for them. 

“How-”

Indrid trills in alarm, grabbing Duck’s shoulder an instant before the dog looks at them. 

“YOUR PRESENCE IS REQUESTED AT THE LODGE.” The dog says without moving it’s mouth.

“By, uh, by who?”

“INDRID COLD, YOUR FAILURE MUST BE DOCUMENTED. OUR REPRESENTATIVE AWAITS YOU. DO NOT KEEP HIM WAITING.”

“It’s, ah, it is late, perhaps we can do this--oh damn it all.”

Duck steadies himself against the demon as they’re forcibly teleported into a corner of the Lodge. 

Aubrey looks up from her dinner, then around the room, “um, FYI, whoever did that is on really thin ice right now.”

“Apologies, Aubrey. Apparently Woodbridge was in a hurry.”

Duck turns to find Vincent, a minister of human/planar being relations, waiting for them at a table. His fight or flight instinct calms some. Vincent is both the child of a resident of the Above and the Below and a massive fan of human culture, and thus very friendly. He’s also helped Duck and Aubrey with paperwork more than once. The Above and Below both love paperwork.

“Wh-why is Woodbridge the one who sent you?” Indrid’s fingers twitch as they sit down, “I haven’t been in his employ in decades.”

Vincent strokes his beard, “Technically, when an entity gets bonded to a human, it is the concern of the plane where the entity first placed their allegiance. But, given the circumstances of your career, both planes really are interested, hence their sending me. It should not take long, the form is very standard and I can make copies for both planes.” He’s already filling the “name” sections, along with the date, “now, Indrid, can you tell me how the bond occurred? The categories are ‘entrapment, defeat, bargain, love/marriage or other.”

“I…” Indrid glances over at Duck. There’s that same feeling in the bond, the one where the demon is fighting hard to keep something buried, “I believe other is most applicable. It was accidental, though I foresee almost no one believing that. Yes, that expression on your face suggests I am correct.”

Vincent looks to Duck, “do you agree it was an accident?”

“Yep. Neither us was tryin to make it, and we didn’t know it was happenin until it was over.”

“I see.” Vincent taps his head with the pen, thinking, “I am going to write ‘spell misfire’ along with ‘accident’. I believe you, but only because I know you and also know that Duck can’t lie. Better to keep certain people from poking around. The only other thing I need to know is when the bond occurred.”

“Friday.” They say at the same time.

“Really?” Vincent's yellow eyes widen.

“It was movie night.” Indrid says plainly.

“You two are adjusting incredibly well given how little time has passed.”

“We have an understanding.” Indrid’s voice is becoming increasingly formal, a tone Duck’s never heard, “besides, I am far from the first demon to take an interest in spending time around a particular human. Wouldn’t you agree?”

Vincent nods quickly, “Of course. Well, that concludes the paperwork, if you could both just sign here, I will go and order dinner. It seems only polite to cover your meal after you got dragged here.”

“And toy wanna pick my brain about movies.” Duck smirks at him.

“Yes, that as well.” Vincent bleats slightly and heads towards the counter. 

As Duck finishes signing his name, Indrid murmurs, “I am not ready to speak about it.”

Duck waits for elaboration. 

“There were many futures where you asked what Vincent meant about my past. So let me put it this way; I will be ready to talk about that when you are ready to talk about why you flinch whenever the words destiny or fate are mentioned in relation to you.” 

Duck squeeze his knee, not sure why he goes for that instead of a pat on the shoulder, “That sounds more’n fair, ‘Drid.”  
\-------------------------------------------------  
 _Blood and screaming, a clearing, he sees it so clearly, he can hear it, wants it to stop._

Indrid gasps awake, face pressed against something solid and warm. 

Solid, warm, and breathing. With hair that tickles his skin

Oh goodness, this is definitely Duck’s belly. And those are his hands in Indrid’s hair, not pushing him away as he anticipated but holding him gently. 

“Hey, hey, ‘Drid it’s okay, it’s okay.” 

He must have been thrashing in his sleep, migrating from his normal spot at the bottom of the bed into an odd angle where he’s curved around Duck’s lower body. 

“It was just a nightmare, ain’t nothin here.”

Indrid could leave it be. But if he was good at that, he wouldn’t be in the situation he is.

“No. No, it was a vision. That, that clearing up the highway, the rest stop with the payphone, two people are about to die.”

“Shit.” Duck is already moving, pulling on a stray pair of shorts and a shirt, “c’mon, how much time do we have.”

“Five minutes at most.”

“Worth a try.” He grabs the car keys, Indrid magicking on shoes as he runs after him. The town is devoid of human noise this time of night, street lights offering paltry shelters of light against the darkness creeping from the woods. Indrid keeps watch for speed traps as Duck guns it up to the outskirts of town. 

When they pull into the rest stop, there are two motorcycles parked side by side and the payphone swinging off the hook. Indrid picks it up just in time to hear, “...fuck, hold on, I’m coming, just hang on.”

Then it’s just a dial tone and Indrid hangs up. 

“We are too late.” 

Duck is peering at the ground, the splotch of dark, sticky liquid. The spots in a trail into the underbrush. The human follows it and Indrid follows him, putting up a protection ward just in case.

“Oh _fuck_.” Duck stands straight up, nearly colliding with Indrid.

They’ve found the owners of the bikes, one on his side and one on his back, both with gashes of dark blood where their necks should be. 

And in the trees, something is breathing. 

Indrid flicks his ears, intensifies the ward. 

Duck is kneeling on the ground, checking over the two men.

“They’re dead. Fuck, fuck this is bad, ‘Drid, those are-”

“-Feral vampire marks, yes, I know.”

“Fuck, if this gets out there’s gonna be trouble. But we can’t just leave these poor fellas here.”

He feels Duck’s conflict, shuts his eyes and sorts through futures.

“If you call the sheriff, that in and of itself does not create trouble. And it gets them so they can be buried by their loved ones.” He kneels beside Duck, reaches out and draws the eyelids of the man nearest him down, “I am sorry. I could not save you. Some things never change.”

“I’m sorry too. If I’d been faster, maybe we coulda done somethin.”

“You tried all the same. I, I cannot stress how unlikely that future was. Yet you did it without hesitation.” 

“Because it was the right fuckin thing to do!” Duck scrubs his hands over his face, “fuck, sorry, just, this is all just...fuck.”

“Agreed.”

He waits patiently, on guard the entire time, as Duck calls Sheriff Owens, and then as the Sheriff questions them both about what they saw. 

In the car, Duck fiddles unsteadily with the radio until Indrid nudges his hand aside and finds the one local station they both like. The house waits for them like an oasis, Duck waving a hand to turn all the lights on before they’re even inside.

Indrid perches on the bed, drawing to try and calm himself, when the running water from the bathroom is joined by Duck cursing. 

“C’mon, fuck, come off.” He’s scrubbing furiously at the blood on his hands. In the fluorescent light of the bathroom, he looks pale.

“Here” Indrid removes the blood with a simple spell, pulls a towel from the rack to dry Duck’s hands, “see, that was much simpler, and better for water conservation.”

“Uhhuh.” Duck’s voice is tight as he looks up, “Indrid I, I ain’t ever seen that kind of thing before. Last feral vamp attack in this area was decades ago. And I only seen a demon die once. Not, not..”

Indrid carefully pulls the towel away, drops it on the floor in favor of taking the human’s hands and leading him back into the bedroom. It’s another simple spell to get them back to their sleepwear.

“Is there a way I can helpoh, oh alright.” Duck is hugging him, face resting against his chest. 

“Would you, ah, like to sleep like this?”

“Uhuh.” Duck whispers.

Indrid always assumed he would be stilted and stiff if he tried to hold someone like this. But when he lays down it’s only natural to open his arms, to curl himself protectively around Duck, to nose his hair and chirr softly as the human takes deep, shaky breath into his tank-top. His hand glides up and down Duck’s back, keeping a slow rhythm as the rangers heartbeat evens out, as small snores replace the shudders. 

He holds Duck closer, tries to keep his eyes closed and match the rise and fall of his chest. Tries to savor this closeness, Duck’s soul curling around him like fingers around a lovers cheek, the comforting weight of him in his arms. 

But all he can see is the flash of blonde hair he caught in the trees while Duck called the sheriff, and the outline of a bloodstained face that looked very familiar.


	6. What Do You Want?

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Indrid fights. Duck argues. Ned takes in a guest.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Content note: Indrid accidentally casts a spell on himself that needs Duck to give him permission to cum to make it end. Duck asks for permission to help and Indrid assures Duck he can say no, but I wanted to alert in case that hits someone's dubcon buttons.

It turns out word of bonding travels fast. Indrid learns this at the end of the second week, when he and Duck are finally able to be away from each other for more than a few minutes. He’s perched on one of the stools by the window, drawing, when two demons sit down, flanking him.

“Welcome to the club, Cold.” One, green-haired and golden eyed, lifts his arm to show his soul mark, “Name’s Balthazar. This one is Billy.” He points to the other demon, who’s blonde and reminds Indrid of Ryan Gosling (“‘Drid, we ain’t watchin _The Notebook_ again” “I merely enjoy the kissing scene and art design”). 

Billy shows his mark before signing at Indrid, “Did it really happen on accident?”

“Yes.”

Balthazar snorts, “Figures you would get caught in a mess like this on accident. You should have stayed where you were.”

“And you should not speak of things you do not know. Now, did you come here for a reason other than insulting my competence?”

Billy signs, “It’s nice to have someone to commiserate with.”

“Are your humans that unpleasant?”

“Eh, mine’s alright.”

“Mine isn’t.” Billy looks around, as if afraid the human might be listening.

“Duck is…” The words pile up at the front of his mouth, making it hard to speak; Duck is the person who comforts him after bad visions. Duck is the person who compliments him, teases him. Duck is always there, in the mornings with his rumpled hair and coffee, in the evenings with his feet up on the couch and his arm around Indrid’s shoulders. 

“....Duck is nice.” 

“Nice?” The Balthazar scoffs, “oh yeah? Tell me how he handled those first days when you were stuck around him.”

“He held my hand. I slept in his bed.”

Billy’s eyes widen, “He made you sleep with him?”

“No, nono, I chose to. We both did, as it was comfortable. I have my own room now.”

(“Was it meant as an office?” “Nursery.” “Ah.”)

“Mine put me on a leash.” Billy rubs his arm.

“Yeah, mine stuck me a moveable salt circle.”

“What on earth is wrong with your humans?”

“Maybe yours is just weird. Or special.” Balthazar shrugs.

“He is not! Or, he is special, but not because of that. I have watched humans for a long, long time. More of them are like him than like your warlocks.”

“Whatever you say, man. Come on Billy, let’s leave this one to his charmed life.”

They disappear, Billy waving as he does. Indrid mutters rude words into his drink; how dare they assume his life has been charmed. Duck’s the best thing to happen to him in years, and Duck’s also _banished him_ multiple times. 

Still, he can understand their anger, their resentment that someone unworthy has landed in a bond with a warlock who cares about him when they’re stuck with ones who don’t.

“Jesus, someone actually used a fuckin leash?” Duck says when Indrid relays the conversation, the ranger sitting next to him on a couch in Mama’s office as they wait for others to arrive.

“Yes.” Indrid lets his tail and horns manifest, trying not to think of how the leash sounds appealing, but only if it’s held in the warm, slightly calloused hands currently tapping the arm of the couch, “I ah, I just wanted to say thank you Duck. For being how you are.”

“Now hold up” the human turns to face him, “‘Drid, you don’t gotta thank me for doin the bare fuckin minimum. I’m treatin you right and not exploitin this mess because that’s what a decent fuckin person does.”

Indrid tilts his head, “That is true. But still, you treated me kindly even before this. You were gentle with me when I did little to merit such a reaction. And how I feel about you, it is more than just gratitude for not harming me. It is...I am so fond of how you are.”

The human is turning pink, and Indrid is saved from revealing himself further by Mama and Aubrey entering the room. Barclay and Ned follow behind them, the cook shutting the door and leaning back against it. 

“As of yet, our luck holds. The coroner still hasn’t released a report on those poor souls.”

“That's just delayin’ the inevitable.” Mama sighs, “sooner or later, word’ll get out what killed them. Then we’ll be beatin off townsfolks tryin to mod the Lodge and those fuckers from Reconciliation will have a field day.”

“If anyone messes with you or my wife, I will set them one fire.”

“Appreciate the sentiment but that might make things worse.” Barclay studies the floor, worrying the woven bracelet on his wrist. 

“The one thing we got goin for us is that this Stern fella ain’t turned up anythin. Means the few vamps in town won’t be targeted right away. Can’t hunt what you can’t identify.”

“Won’t that turn into a witch hunt? Not like an Aubrey-type-witch hunt, but like, fuck, y’know?” Duck sounds distracted, and Indrid realizes his tail has been stroking his lower back, out of sight of the others. 

“Not if we find the feral vamp first. They don’t tend to go far. That’s why as of now I’m addin that to our duties as Pine Guard. And Indrid, if you could use those future-seein powers, it’d be real fuckin helpful.”

“I will do my best, but as with all timelines nothing is guaranteed.” He smiles, trying to express his gratitude at being included; Duck’s trust of him is rubbing off on the others, and he finds that enjoyable. 

“Relatedly, Stern is coming down that hallway.”

“Shit.” Mama locks the top drawer of her desk. 

“I’m on it.” Barclay is out the door before anyone can protest. 

Duck looks at Indrid and murmurs, “fella must have a fuckin death wish.”  
\-------------------------------------------  
See, Duck knows a thing or two about death wishes. Because he enacted one for himself when he encouraged Indrid to try out new hobbies now that they could be apart, only to discover the demon has an affinity for yoga. Which means his heart regularly stops when he enters the house to find Indrid with his ass in the air, sweat dripping down his neck when he stands as smiles at Duck.

“Apologies, I foresaw you being home later, let me clear this up.”

He has foreseen incorrectly seven times in the last ten days, and Duck is only human. Which is why, instead of falling right asleep, he grabs a single-use masturbation sleeve from the closet and double checks the door is locked (Indrid has finally started knocking. Most of the time).

Laying in bed, he closes his eyes, tries to keep his fantasy abstract; long legs, pale hair, a wide smile. But instead it comes to him purring, with red eyes that bore into him and make him imagine all the things he shouldn’t do. Every impulse he’s buried, every fantasy he told himself was not for a guy like him. Indrid would indulge him, Indrid would let him do so many cruel, rough things and thank him for them at the end.

He cums at the thought of Indrid whimpering in ecstatic pain and immediately regrets it. Indrid is bonded to him, Indrid trusts him, Indrid still thinks Duck is wonderful just because he’s nice to him.

He’s got to come up with something else, and soon, or he’s going to fall down a hole he’ll never be able to climb out of, and pull Indrid down right along with him.   
\---------------------------------------------  
Indrid is minding his own business, drawing futures of the town settling in for the night, when pleasure shoots up his spine. He drops the sketchpad, arching off the headboard with a little gasp. 

It’s coming through the bond, intense enough that it can only mean one thing. On the other side of this wall Duck is masturbating. Indrid recovers from the initial wave of pleasure quickly, the way he’s learning to with all of Duck’s emotions; note it’s there, see if he needs to do anything about it, and then let it fade into the background. Still, it’s there, steady and pulsing, and while he’s not getting hard he feels as if he could. He knows if he needed to he could knock on the door and alert Duck to the situation. But Indrid doesn’t mind the feeling, and Duck deserves the time and space to see to his own needs. 

Stronger even than the pleasure and lust is the _want_ coming through the bond. Whatever Duck is thinking about, he desires it very, very badly. Indrid knows the feeling. 

With a whine, he rolls onto his side, head and one hand pressing against the wall, pawing the white paint. He doubts Duck is thinking of him, but surely Indrid could pretend well enough to satisfy his desires some. 

Goodness he wants, he wants too, he wants those hands firm and rough on every inch of him as that drawl pours praise into the empty spaces in his chest. They’ve touched plenty since that night, but each has held back, afraid of what that vulnerability and dreaming aloud could cause this time.

Indrid whimpers, cums dry and slumps down on the bed. None of the books bothered to mention that possibility. Maybe their humans were all too focused on using their newfound power to set aside time for self-pleasure. Maybe Indrid’s just extra-sensitive.

Maybe he’s just screwed.   
\-----------------------------------  
“..anyway, eventually the fella listened to me and moved his tent somewhere else. Last thing he or I wanted was for some poor snake to mistake his tent for a hidin spot.”

“I still do not see how that necessitated fifteen minutes of arguing.”

Duck chuckles, “some folks are convinced they know the outdoors better than they really do.”

Indrid stops, spell flickering on his fingertips. 

“If we round that bend, we are going to find a bonded warlock trying to raise the dead. The futures suggest he’s seen you before.”

“Urgh, not this dipshit again. C’mon, let’s get him out of here, I’ll handle it and let you know if I need backup.” He’s none too happy to face the guy who flung him into a tree, especially when said guy is dangerously close to where Sylvain and the Quell are resting. 

“Come for some more punishment, Wayne?” The warlock smiles

“That is not the correct name.” Indrid crosses his arms, annoyed with the show of disrespect. Duck would be flattered where he not fucking confused as to how the guy learned his first name in the first place

“Got yourself a demon? Copycat."

The other demon looks up from the log he’s perched on, seems to recognize Indrid, and tries to back further away.

“Block!” Indrid yells, and Duck just manages to put up his ward against a wallop of an offensive curse. 

“Jesus fuck man, I just want you to knock it off with the necromancy. Don’t gotta come out guns blazin every time.”

“And you could leave well enough alone.” This spell is a mixture of colors, and the demon on the log winces, doubles over.

“What the fuck man, you’re hurtin him!”

“I wouldn’t have to if your spells were weaker. This is your fault not mine.”

It almost works, his guilt making the ward weaken before he gets a hold of himself. 

“Liar” Indrid hisses under his breath. The other demon yelps in pain at the same moment there’s a flash of white light. Duck’s protection shatters and he skids across the ground. 

“At least tonight won’t be a total loss.” The warlock’s voice is distorted, Duck’s mind rattled by an aftershock of the attack. 

He puts up a hand, certain whatever spell he puts up will not be enough to stop the next attack. All the same he tries, and a field of crackling black and green surrounds him. He gasps, unfamiliar power in his veins and nerves, more power than he’s ever felt. He’s unstoppable. 

Outside the field, he sees Indrid sigh in relief. Their enemy glances at him, shakes his head and readies another bolt. 

“Loyal, huh? Shoulda remembered to put up your own ward first-”

Indrid flicks his other hand and the man crumples to the ground, unconscious.

When he drops the protection around Duck, he’s not even winded. 

What the fuck kind of demon is Duck attached to?

“Are you alright?” Indrid offers a hand, pulling Duck up, dry leaves crackling under his feet. 

“Yeah, little scraped up but it’ll heal quick. You?”

“Better, now that I am certain you were not hurt. I, ah, I apologize, I should not have used the bond for something so powerful without warning.”

“Given that you saved my ass from bein toasted, don’t really got it in me to be upset.”

Indrid smiles, small and proud.

“I’m, uh, gonna see if I can summon more of the guard. We need to get this fella under control.”

“I will see to Billy.” Indrid indicates the demon, joins him on his log as Duck reaches out with his power, searching for a nearby spellcaster. 

Unfortunately, Leo and Minerva are the ones who answer. 

“Well, good news is we got what dampers we need to keep him under control until a trial.” Leo finishes binding up the warlock.

“Don’t forget to bind his demonic companion as well.” Minerva indicates Billy who, confusingly, tries to hide behind Duck rather than Indrid, clinging to the rangers shirt and making little bleats of fear. 

“Now hold on a sec, he ain’t done nothin wrong. Pretty clear this fella had to yank on the bond to get him to share power; he didn’t want to hurt me, or ‘Drid.”

“All the same, he is an adversary and must be dealt with as such.”

“Nope. I ain’t lettin him be locked up just because some dipshit with a god complex tricked him into a bond.” He stares up at Minerva, who looks between him and Indrid before pointing at Billy.

“He is a threat, you must be decisive-”

“I’m _bein_ decisive! I ain’t gonna hurt him anymore than he has been. So get out of my face.”

It was rude, even Indrid seems to think so if the feeling in the bond is any indication.

Minerva backs down, “Very well. But if he turns out to be destructive, that’s on you.” She and Leo finish up, and as they’re leaving she stops and murmurs, “it was nice to see you again, Wayne.”

The phrase makes him feel raw, ashamed of something he can’t place, so all he says is, “yeah, you too.”

It’s not until they’re out of sight that Indrid frowns, “why do people keep calling you---oh, _that’s_ your first name.”

“Yep. Folks thought they were real funny.” 

“I rather like the one you chose, my duckling.”

Duck snorts, acknowledging the joke but not fully in the mood for it, “okay, uh, Billy right? How far can you get from that fella before the bond makes you stop.”

The demon makes several signs with his hand.

“A maximum of seven miles.” Indrid translates. 

“Fuck, that narrows our options a hell of a lot. And I can’t believe I’m sayin this but, uh, how do you feel about roadside attractions?”

It turns out he likes them, if the excited bleat he gives at seeing the Cryptonomica is any indication. He does eye Ned warily as Duck explains the situation, but that’s a reasonable response to a guy who’s ninety percent bullshit ninety-five percent of the time. 

“You’ll be alright kid, long as you don’t let him read any Latin near you.” Boyd leans on the banister, “I’ll go make up that little spare room, Edmund couldn’t make a bed if his life depended on it.”

“And you could not iron a suit properly if there was million dollars riding on it.” Ned shoots back, then turns his attention to Billy, “I am a bit worried as to how we shall deal with our lack of a mutual speaking language.”

“If the kid signs I can help, learned back in school.”

“A kind offer, Boyd, but demon sign language is not the same as English sign language.” Indrid looks at the other demon. Suddenly, orange letters form in the air.

“Will this work?”

“Wonderful” Ned claps his hands together, “I like your quick thinking my dear boy. Now come, let us get you situated.” He loops an arm over Billy’s shoulder, and while the demon winces, he relaxes in a matter of moments. 

“Guess we’ll let you take it from here.” Duck puts his hat back on, follows Indrid to the car. 

“Thank you for taking his side. It feels...important somehow. There’s something in the future that I cannot see, but it seems Billy has a role to play.”

“That’s, uh, that’s good. Ominous, but good.” He’s so tired; from work, from the fight, from seeing Minerva again, from the general fact he exists. From trying and failing to picture anyone other than Indrid when he closes his eyes at night.

Indrid rests a hand on his shoulder, “shall we eat in tonight? There is a new David Attenborough special on Netflix, and my lap is rather comfortable.”

Duck smiles wearily and nods, and spends the whole drive home wondering how it will feel to put his head in Indrid’s lap.

It does not disappoint. And that, he realizes as slender fingers card his hair, is a problem.   
\------------------------------------  
Indrid has the house to himself for the night, and is trying not to think too much about why. Duck simply said he was going out to the Wolfe Bar and Grille. To see if, “anyone was bear huntin.”

In many ways, Indrid is happy for him. He wants Duck to find a companion, to be happy, even if Indrid would like to fulfill that role himself. But if he can’t, he is glad to be in Duck’s life all the same. 

So he does yoga, eats an entire package of Creamsicles, and generally enjoys his time alone. He enchants some of Ebony’s toy mice so give her a chance to hunt. Dani even stops by to drop off a plant for Duck, and ends up chatting for a half-hour over tea.

He finishes up his evening with a long bath, and is so relaxed he isn’t watching the futures closely. Which is why it’s a surprise to step out of the steamy bathroom to find Duck chatting with a tall, blonde man in the entryway.

Thank goodness he put on his robe.

The stranger notices him, and Duck turns and smiles. Guilt comes through the bond. Indrid tries to assuage it. 

“Hello, I am Duck’s, ah, roommate. No need to look so worried Duck, I was just startled, I had not realized you had gotten home. Well, goodnight, please make yourself comfortable.” He slips into his room, locking the door and changing into his pajamas. To make things easier on himself and offer the pair privacy, he grabs the small MP3 player Duck found for him, puts in his headphones, and turns on background noise while he draws. 

It takes about a half-hour before he feels pleasure creeping into the bond. It was one thing to feel it when Duck was alone (the human hasn’t masturbated again, so the issue has not come up a second time). But now there is another person involved and it just feels rude and wrong and bad, like Indrid is intruding in a massive way.

There are a few spells he learned ages ago; they won’t sever the bond, but maybe they can dampen it, or send his attention and his bodily sensations elsewhere. So he’ll try that. After all, they’re easy enough.  
\-------------------------------------------  
Duck sees Jeff off around midnight, waving as he drives off. This was exactly what he needed; a nice, cute, normal guy who understood this was a one time deal. Someone to help him get his desire under control with no chance of hurting him (or getting hurt by him).

He locks up, heads back down the hall and stops. There’s a faint, high, pained noise coming from Indrid’s room. Distress coming through the bond. 

“‘Drid, you okay in there?”

No answer, but the noise stops. 

Shit, what if he’s hurt? What if something slipped through the wards and silenced him?

Duck quickly undoes the lock, finds the room bathed in the light of a bedside lamp. The demon is under the covers, his back to Duck and his whole body shaking. 

“What’s wrong, demon of mine?”

“Nothing. I’m fine.” His voice is tight.

“You don’t sound…” he rounds the bed and sees the problem. 

Indrid’s hips are bucking weakly but relentlessly, the blanket slipping to reveal his pants down to his knees and his cock hard between his legs. It’s a wild shape, but Duck’s too concerned to notice anything beyond that initial assessment. Because it’s also red and raw, as if someone’s been rubbing sandpaper over it.

The demon’s eye’s are uncovered, offer him an unobstructed view of tears when he opens them.

“I, I made a, m-mistake.”

Were it not for Indrid’s obvious, intense unhappiness, this would be the hottest thing he’s seen all night.

He kneels by the bed so their faces are level, “What happened?”

“I, I could feel you through the bond, could tell you would be shortly having sex and, and I thought I could redirect it but, but the spell went wrong. It was supposed to keep me from feeling sexual pleasure for an hour but because I was still thinking about you” he bites his lip, forcing a squeak back down his throat, “I made it so I can only cum with your permission. And your touch.”

Duck stops breathing for a moment.

“I, I am sorry, so sorry, I should have told you sooner I could feel those sensations in the bond, it was wrong of me not to, I am sorry, just leave me, I will figure something out, I will keep trying” He’s starting to hiccup through his tears.

“Shh, hey, hey, none of that. We can sort out the other stuff later. I ain’t angry.” He pets Indrid’s hair, runs a finger up one horn, “all I gotta do is say you can cum?”

“And touch me. Anywhere will do.” The poor demon is shaking, guilt twisted up with hope snaking through the bond and into Duck. 

Anywhere will do. He could keep his hand where it is and help Indrid out exactly the same. But then Indrid would think Duck was repulsed by the idea. By him. And he can’t abide Indrid falling asleep thinking Duck was disgusted with him.

He crawls onto the bed, the demon rolling on his back with a breathless, shy trill as Duck rests on his side next to him. He presses their foreheads together and Indrid hiccups again. 

“Can you try calmin just a bit for me, darlin? C’mon, breath in and out with me.”

Indrid obeys, haltingly at first, and Duck coos “good demon” each time he gets a breath in a little slower than before. 

“You want me to touch your cock?”

“You, you do not have to. I will fix it, I never want you to feel as must, I am sorry-”

“I wanna help, okay? You ain’t makin me do this.” He tries to stay calm, keep it framed for both of them as helping a friend. Not as a man who’s two rash, selfish decisions away from fucking a demon into the mattress.

Indrid meets his eyes, “Then, then yes. Please touch.”

Gingerly, he wraps his fingers around the top of his cock, “You were tryin so hard to do right, weren’t you?”

Indrid whimpers loudly, covering his face with his hands as he nods.

“Go ahead and cum, sugar. It’s okay.”

All it takes is one upstroke and Indrid is spurting down his hand, dripping on the taut lines pf his tan belly where his shirt has ridden up. His body convulses tip to tail and he whines louder, longer. And all the while Duck holds him, keeps their foreheads together, murmurs “it’s okay, I got you” until Indrid finally begins relaxing. He’s about to offer to stay, to sleep next to him like they used to, when Indrid uncovers his face. 

“Please go.”

“‘Drid-”

“You have already helped me undo my error. That is all I can ask of you. I, I am sorry.”

“Hey, we all fucked up a spell before. And I'm sorry too, for not thinkin about how pleasure might come through the bond. Call it even?” He keeps his voice as light as he can.

“Yes. Now, please…” The door swings open, the message clear. 

“Okay. You need anythin, you come get me, y'hear.” 

A silent nod, Indrid still not looking at him. 

As the door is almost shut he whispers, “G’night, Indrid.”

“Goodnight.”

He’s not even three steps away when sorrow and shame seep into the bond and soft, saw sounds come under the door. But Indrid asked for space and Duck can’t bear the thought of pushing his boundaries in a moment like this. So he hurries to his room and burrows under the covers, Indrid’s little sobs dogging him all the way.


	7. Have This

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Ned reports. Duck remembers. Aubrey answers the phone.

It’s the most awkward breakfast since the morning after they were bonded. 

Indrid summons his coffee rather than retrieving it, hides in his room s Duck gets ready for work. Denied the chance to read his face or talk to him, Duck resorts to investigating the bond, trying to see what the demon is feeling. There’s shame, embarrassment, and a wistful longing that digs into Duck’s chest and stays there. 

If he concentrates very hard, he can catch articulated emotions.

_You feel too much_

_Should have asked him to stay_

_He does not want such closeness. Why should he trust you?_

It’s the last two that bother him all through the day, rearing their heads when he’s just trying to get paperwork done or give hikers directions at the visitor center. When he gets home, Indrid is on the couch, Ebony on his lap and book in his hand. In the ten minutes Duck putters about, he doesn’t turn the page once. 

Duck glances over at him; his horns and tail are out, his claws scritching the cat just how she likes. He looks as if he’s always been there, like Duck’s come home to this sight every night for years. He belongs here, in Duck’s life. 

“Leftovers alright for dinner?” He grabs two glasses from the cabinet. 

“That is fine. I am not very hungry.”

Duck grabs a Whiteclaw for himself and a pineapple soda for the demon. When he pops the cap off, Indrid’s ear flicks just slightly towards him.

“You always had your powers?” He pours the soda into a glass.

“As long as I can remember, yes.”

“Mine only turned up on my eighteenth birthday. I knew Kepler was full of weird shit, even who grows up here does. I didn’t want no part of it, figured since I wasn’t a kid who could move shit with my mind or start fires at random or whatever I got lucky and could just be normal. Then at eighteen suddenly I’m super-tough, castin spells without meanin to, and Minerva’s knockin on the door. She and Leo, a few others, they all had the same thing happen, they’d been chosen by some bein’ from the Above to carry power, to be heroes and protect the world. Stop evil, all that kinda stuff. I didn’t want that. I didn’t want to miss out on a life of french onion soup and hikin and everythin else I loved because I beefed it at twenty thanks to some big bad evil thing. I avoided it for years, even though Minerva kept comin back to remind me of my destiny.”

He sets a curly straw in the glass, feels all of Indrid’s attention on him now. 

“Tried to build my life how I wanted it. But it was always there, hangin over me. Then when Mama and them started needin more help...felt like there wasn’t a way around it no more. I couldn’t leave my friends to face monsters and evil warlocks and whatever the fuck else when I had these powers.”

Silent as always, Indrid moved while Duck was studying the condensation on the can and is now on the other side of the counter, still listening.

“I don’t regret it. It was--is--the right thing to do. And I ain’t half bad at it, and it’s nice to know I’m keepin the people and places I love safe. But I can’t help but feel it’ll never be over; I’ll always have to be lookin over my shoulder, always have to build my life knowin it could all be taken away in an instant. That’s what no one tells you about bein a hero; you spend everyday wonderin if this is when the Green Goblin or whoever the fuck is gonna show up and end it all.”

“There are goblins in Kepler?” Indrid cocks his head

Duck just stares at him.

Indris stares back, smile creeping across his face, “I am kidding. It is a goof, as you are so fond of calling it. I am familiar with Superman.”

“Spiderman. We gotta work on your earth comic knowledge.” He chuckles, a little proud that Indrid thought to joke to ease the tension.

“I, ah, I understand. Not about comics. About your feelings regarding fate. As I said before, I was born in the Above, gifted as a seer from an early age. I was assigned a role with the court, which I fulfilled for a long time. But I became, ah, jaded I suppose. I felt differently about humans than many of my kind, and differently about vampires and demons as well. I kept trying to meddle with fate. I came into greater and greater conflict with the other members of the court and I...I left. I quit. I decided my best chance was in the Below, since I did not think the human world would have a place for one such as me. So I went to that plane, arousing a great deal of suspicion there and a great deal of wrath from my old home. And thus I have stayed; despised by my old home, distrusted by my new one--oh.” He looks down, surprised, when Duck reaches across the counter and takes his hand.

“Nah, fuck that, Below is your old home too now. Your home is on earth. With, uh, with” he swallows, wondering just how much of the affection in the bond is coming from him and how much is coming from Indrid, “with me.”

“You.” Indrid breathes out rather than speaks the word, “yes, I suppose I have a new home.” His other hand hovers above their joined fingers, traces shapes on the back of Duck’s hand, “in spite of my abilities, I'm considered incompetent by many demons, and as you no doubt noticed I sometimes...struggled to carry out the desires of the court on that plane as well. I, ah, I sometimes think our getting bonded was the best thing that could have happened.”

He smiles before biting his lip. This time, Duck knows exactly how much of the affection is coming from him.

“Me too.”

The urge to lean across the counter and kiss him is powerful, but it’s too soon. The memory of Indrid’s shame and guilt when Duck touched him too fresh.

Duck settles for squeezing his hand, “C’mon, those library books ain’t gonna read themselves.”

They take their usual spots on the couch, and as he passes Indrid his latest romance novel he adds, “‘Drid? Thanks for listenin to me. It ain’t always easy to talk about that stuff.”

Indrid offers a soft, comforting purr before replying, “You are welcome, Duck. And thank you. For, ah, for trusting me.”  
\-----------------------------  
“Well, my friends, do you want the good news or the bad news first?” Ned sits down at the table with the bulk of the Pine Guard.

“Bad, let’s get it over with.” Mama looks up from carving a small, wooden ram.

“I made an inspection of Agent Stern’s room while he was out in the field. He has files on all of us, as well as many other prominent figures in town. Now, some of what is included in them is common knowledge; Duck and Aubrey’s spellcasting, Duck and Indrid’s bond, things of that nature. But he is close, and I mean extraordinarily close, to discoverin the identity of one resident vampire.” He looks pointedly at Dani, he scoots further into her wife's protective embrace.

“Shit.” Mama sets her knife down, “don’t suppose you lifted the fuckin things?”

“I considered that course of action, but I believe doing so would rouse his suspicion and worse, turn it more firmly on residents of the Lodge. Relatedly, where is Barclay?”

“Workin, and also keepin Stern occupied. He’s pretty good at distractin’ him with small talk.”

“Even if he does identify who’s a vamp, there’s no reason for him to assume any of the folks here have gone feral.” Duck adds just as a burst of concern comes through the bond.

“I, ah, I have a confession; I saw something in the woods the night of the attack. Something that looked very much like” he gestures to Dani.

“Indrid, I swear if you’re implying-”

“I am not, Lady Flame, I promise. I am merely reporting what I saw. And pointing out that if it is seen again, Dani may be in danger.”

“What are the odds of that happenin?” Duck ignores the fact Indrid’s tail is once again tugging at Duck’s belt-loops. It keeps happening, and Indrid genuinely does not seem to notice unless Duck points it out.

“Very, very low, but that could change. If a vampire is feral, and not just pretending, then their behavior can be impulsive and changeable. I will do my best to monitor it” he turns to Aubrey and Dani, “and I give you my word, I will do whatever I can to warn you the moment I sense there may be danger.”

Dani manages a small smile while Aubrey flicks a spark from hand to hand. 

“Guess that’s that for now, unless we figure out a way to swap out or steal those notes. What’;s the good news, Ned?”

“An employee at the county coroner’s office happens to be a fan of ‘Saturday Night Dead.’ And was more than happy to let me peek at the report on those two unfortunate bikers. The cause of death is being listed as an animal attack.”

“Hold up, I told Sheriff Owens that it was a vamp. Nothin else kills like that, certainly no animal we got around here.”

“My contact told me the mayor and a few others wish to avoid a panic. Which is good news for us.”

“No fuckin kiddin. I say we let ‘em lie as much as they want, and hope we catch this killer before things get worse. It’ll keep folks safe and get Stern outta our hair in one go. And if you’re feelin the itch to tell the truth, Duck, well” Mama casts a knowing look towards Indrid, “maybe find somethin else to do with your time.”

Duck sneaks a peak at the demon currently feeding Dr. Harris Bonkers a raspberry, warm light of the lodge making his hair glimmer and his skin take on a warm, tempting hue.

“Roger that.”  
\---------------------------------------  
Indrid is having an astoundingly good week. 

First, he spent an afternoon helping Thacker in the library, identifying which translations were nonsense and which books might benefit from being under lock and key. 

Then he’d spent a slow evening at the Lodge chatting with Barclay and Agent Stern. He;s less wary of the agent than the others, as foresight means he can see the probably paths of conversation and steer them clear of ones where the man gets a bit too nosy. Too, Stern is earnestly, non-professionally curious about Indrid’s time in the Below and his experiences as a demon, and Indrid finds he has an almost cheesy sense of humor that’s rather endearing. As is the way he sighs and stares longingly at Barclay whenever the cook is otherwise occupied. 

He even got to go to game night, as Duck had to lead a nighttime hike and Aubrey asked if Indrid wanted to take his spot. They end up playing “Farkle” and “Moths and Flames,” since those games are harder for Indrid to predict. Then they play “Clue” in teams and everyone fights over who gets to be with him.

The next day, instead of an at-home movie night, Duck suggested they go to the little theater downtown, so Indrid could bask in the collective emotions rolling from the audience and in the fondness radiating off Duck. At one point, Duck holds out a hand, offering Indrid some M&Ms in his palm. Without thinking, Indrid leans in and nibbles a red one, tongue brushing Duck’s skin when he does. Arousal flits through him and he’s close enough to her Duck’s breathing hitch. 

He smirks; even if the spell incident of a few weeks ago was humiliating, it’s still fun to tease the human now and then. 

Best of all, it’s now Saturday and he and Duck have spent the whole day together. Leisurely breakfast, time reading and drawing side by side in the fall sun, Duck looking unfairly handsome in the golden light, and now a movie on the couch. It was Duck’s turn to pick, and he chose a nature documentary. One that happened to include a scene about ducks, which gave Indrid ample time to torment him, the human giggling and telling him to shut the fuck up in a way that meant the opposite. 

Now, however, Duck has a chance to get him back. Because the topic is big-horned sheep, knocking their heads together. 

“Aw, they got horns like you, ‘Drid.” Duck elbows him playfully, “that how you settle problems too?”

“Yes, and you are in my territory and therefore must move.” He deadpans, tipping sideways so his cheek and the side of one horn land on Duck’s shoulder. 

“I was here first.”

Indrid headbutts him tenderly in reply. 

“Don’t be sore just cause I’m the dominant one on this couch.”

He purrs softly, bumps his head into him again.

Another laugh, “what’re you doin now, demon of mine?”

“Changing tactics.” He turns his head, nuzzling the exposed skin at the base of Duck’s neck.

“Yeah?” Duck’s arm, already around his shoulder, drifts up to rub the bottom of one horn. 

“I am appealing to your dominance.” With every ounce of courage in his body, he kisses Duck once on the neck. The human gasps, unoccupied hand flexing. 

“Is it working?”

“Uh huh.” Duck tips his head back, an invitation that Indrid would never refuse. He starts at the collar of his shirt, kisses up, keeping the contact light and playful, purring all the while. Duck sighs, pulse jumping under Indrid’s mouth. He drags his tongue up his throat, stopping when he hits the roughness of five o’clock shadow, nipping once at the humans jaw. The human tugs once on his hair before returning to his horns, and Indrid skates the tips of his claws across his belly. 

“‘Drid.” Duck sighs and he’s so _happy_ , Indrid feels it in the bond, sees it in his face, hears it in every breath. And he’s so happy too, he never wants to feel anything else but this interlocked pleasure.

He shifts on the couch, swings his leg so he’s straddling Duck’s lap.

“See?” He chirrs sweetly, bumping their noses together, “I got my rightful place on the couch. “

“Sure did.” Duck’s pupils are wide, his hands firmly on Indrid’s hips, and his smile growing hungrier by the second.

Indrid wants him more than he has ever wanted anything on any plane. And maybe, just maybe, in the darkened living room, he can have him.

“All the same, I am happy to let you be in charge, my sweet. Happy to do as you please.”

He leans in for a kiss. Their lips touch for the barest instant, and then Duck is pushing him gently back by his shoulders.

“‘Drid, wait, I don’t want-”

Indrid bites his lip, does his best to look seductive rather than hurt, “You do not have to reciprocate. You can simply take me from whichever, ah, _end_ you please, you do not even have to look at me, I, I can alter my appearance for a time-”

“‘Drid-” A mixture of arousal and disgust comes through the bond. 

“It, it is alright, that is how it always goes when I have sex with humans, since I have only ever done this in the context of contracts. All consensual, do not worry. They, they always act as if I am a hole for them to use as they wish, sometimes they even say that, so I am used to-”

“Jesus _fuck_!” Duck pushes, clearly trying to just get Indrid to stand, but he’s so distracted pleading his case he falls onto the floor.

“Shit, sorry, but also what the _fuck_ Indrid? Do you think that’s what I fuckin want from you?” The human stands and Indrid scrambles to his feet. 

“No, nono, but, well, you were aroused but clearly not interested in me. I, I just wanted to make you happy, to give you a chance to be satisfied without requiring you to desire me.”

Duck looks like an irate deer in the headlights, “ _That’s_ what you think the problem is?"

“What else could it-” The futures rearrange and he clamps his hands over his mouth, shocked.

“Indrid, the problem ain’t that I don’t want you; it’s that I do. I’ve wanted you for weeks, probably months if we’re bein honest.”

“But you said-”

“I was gonna say I don’t want to take advantage of you. That I ain’t sure you really want me.”

Indrid points at the couch, “what exactly do you think that was?”

“How the fuck do we know if it wasn’t just the bond makin you do that?”

“Because the bond could not compel me to hold your hand if I did not want to, let alone have sex with you!”

“Fine, so maybe it ain't the bond proper. But it, we’re connected, I could use that to hurt you, what if you let me do somethin because you were afraid of that?”

Indrid crosses his arms, tail thrashing, “what about our early encounters suggests I will not give as good as I get if someone tries to harm me? I am not afraid of you, Duck Newton. I never have been.”

The human takes a breath, “you got me there. It’s just...Indrid, I know I’m the first person to be nice to you in awhile. I’m doin the bare minimum. I don’t want you mistakin’ your gratitude over that for love or desire.”

Indrid snarls, “Kindly do me the courtesy of not assuming I am so naive to mistake everyday kindness for something deeper! What’s more, you do far more than you claim; you care for me, spoil me, you make me feel as if I may be worthy of love. And I am so desirous of you I think I may go mad just from wanting you to touch me. Does any of that suggest I do not want you to kiss me or take me to bed.”

“I don’t deserve to have someone feel that way about me!” Duck shouts. 

Ah, so that’s it.

Indrid sighs, summoning his coat, “If that is how you feel, Duck, I am not sure what else I can say. I think you are more worthy of love and physical affection than most people. But that is something you have to convince yourself of. You know how I feel, I have said my peace. I am going for a walk.”

He pulls on his coat and steps into the crisp night air, leaving Duck in the dark.   
\----------------------------  
“Hello?”

“Aubrey? Thank fuck, listen-”

“Duck? Is everything okay? You sound upset.”

“No, I mean maybe, I mean yes! Look I, I need you to be honest with me.”

“Umm, okay?”

“Can, uh, can two people in a soul bond have sex? Y’know, consensually?”

“....Yeah? Duck, one of the categories for creating a soul bond is love or marriage. Like, I think that is on the copy of bond paperwork Vincent gave you.”

“Oh. Right.”

He can hear her smiling from miles away, “Indrid finally admit he wants to climb you like a tree?”

“How-”

“Oh please, you’re, like, making goo-goo eyes at him whenever he walks into the room.”

“But, but what if he’s just doin’ it because he thinks he owes me for bein nice? He, I fucked up a six-year relationship, he might have no clue what a mess he’s gettin into. What do you think?”

“I think Indrid is a demon who’s, like, at least a hundred years old and you should listen to him when he tells you how he’s feeling.”

It’s the last little smack on the nose of his self-doubt, the one he needed. 

“Yeah, guess you’re right. Thanks, Aubrey, you’re a pal.”

“Yeah, yeah, now go bang your demon boyfriend doofus. I’ll see you later.”

Duck hangs up, takes several long, deep breaths as he leans back on the counter. He can have this. Indrid wants this. Wants him. 

They can have this. 

Just as he reaching for his keys to go look for Indrid, the door clicks open.  
\-------------------------------------------  
Indrid circles the block twice, so agitated he grabs the small, silicone moth from the plastic pouch in his pocket. Duck bought it for him when he noticed Indrid had gnawed through a pile of pencil erasers while drawing. The moth is built to be chewed on, a pleasing shape and perfectly black. Watching the futures, he sees Duck on the phone, though doesn’t try to tell who he’s calling. He’s too anxious to look further into the future, but when he starts passing the house a third time he stops. He can’t run from this. He wants to work things out with Duck, one way or another. 

When he walks in, only the kitchen light is on, Duck leaning against the counter near the phone. Indrid hangs up his coat, not quite ready to look him in the eye. And when he steels himself and does, it’s the best thing he’s seen all week.

Duck is staring at him, gaze steady and air confident, and smiling. A smile that is utterly, undeniable, and deliciously _wicked_.


	8. Head and Tail

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Duck picks someone up. Indrid sees the light. Stern gets a phone call.

Duck waits until Indrid meets his eyes to move. He crooks his finger, then points it to the floor in front of him. The demon approaches without hesitation, stopping at the indicated spot, biting his lip all the while. 

“I, ah, I take it your phone call was productive?” His hands are twitching, claws occasionally clicking together. 

“Yep. Long story short, Aubrey knocked some sense into me.”

“Thank goodness for competent women.”

“No kiddin.” Duck pushes off the counter, bringing them as close as they can get without physically touching. 

“It seems as if you were waiting for something. As if you, ah, want something.”

Duck takes Indrid’s hands, gathers them to his chest, “You.”

“You can have me. Have I not made that clear?” There’s a hint of fear, as if Indrid is afraid this is somehow his fault. 

“You have, I was just too caught up in my own shit to hear what you were really sayin. I’m listenin now. I’m ready. Plus, uh, I really wouldn’t mind hearin you say it again.”

Indrid leans in, brushing their lips together, “You can have me. _Take_ me.”

“Fuck” Duck groans, tightening his hold on the demon’s hands, “they fuckin teach demons how to talk like that or somethin?”

“No. Denizens of the Above and Below who specialize in sex can usually sense the correct thing to say. In our case, however, I suspect we are just compatible.” 

“Think you might be onto somethin, sugar.” Duck teases his lips across the demon’s, not quite enough pressure to count as a kiss.

The demon whimpers.

“You like that?” Duck kisses his right cheek, “you like bein my sweet little thing?” A kiss to the left side now.

“Technically I am larger, but yes.” Indrid snickers when Duck kisses his nose. Then he growls, dropping Indrids hand in favor of grabbing his chin and forcing his face to stay perfectly forward. The demon moans and Duck smirks. 

“You got a thing for me bein in charge, don’t you?”

“ _Yes_ , yesyes.” Indrid clings to his shirt, “I want to be yours, I want to do whatever you ask.”

“Such a good demon. Almost makes me wanna take advantage, be real mean to you.”

Indrid’s lips part with an eager whine, his hips tilting forward.

“But I don’t think now’s the time for that. Got some other ideas for tonight.”

“I will literally do anything you ask of me. I, I just want to be good.”

“You wanna be good for me, darlin?” His voice dips lower and Indrid shivers, nods, “then tell me what you want.”

“Kissing.” Indrid blurts out, blushing as soon as the word enters the air, and bubbles of affection pop in Duck’s chest, filling him with more tenderness than he ever thought he could hold.

“Yeah? You wanna find a nice comfy spot and make out like a couple of horny teenagers all night? Because that sounds real good to me.” He lifts Indrid’s glasses from his face, loses his breath at the trust he finds waiting for him in those red eyes.

“I, we can do more elaborate things if you like, I, I just like it, I hardly ever get to do it and I think” he shuts his eyes for a moment, and Duck watches as he grounds himself, stroking his chin to help him along.

“I think I would like it with you most of all. I want to know if I am right.”

Duck slides the hand from his chin up his jaw and into his hair, rests the other on a narrow shoulder. Indrid moves with him, tipping his head down, gripping his waist, fingers cool through the fabric of his shirt. The first kiss is shy, Indrid testing to see if Duck will once again push him away. When he doesn’t, Indrid trills happily and presses their mouths together with messy eagerness. He parts his lips instantly, but Duck waits until he whines to slip his tongue between them. There’s nothing in the world that matters beyond this, beyond Indrid in his arms, sliding grateful sounds between his teeth, beyond the way his arms twine round Duck’s back and the way he holds him, as if he’s waited centuries just to slot their bodies together. 

“You wanna take this somewhere we can lay down?” He nips Indrids ear

“Yes but, but I do not want to stop that longAH, oh, oh that’s new.” Indrid laughs when Duck hooks his hands under his ass and lifts, helpfully hooking his legs around Duck’s hips. 

“Just use that foresight of yours to tell me if I’m about to trip.” Duck returns to the very important business of kissing Indrid senseless as he carries him to the demon’s bedroom.

Duck’s bed is bigger, true, but he wants Indrid feeling as secure as possible, as in control as he can be while ceding power to Duck.

When they reach the bed he bends forward to deposit the demon gently on the mattress. This proves difficult, as Indrid refuses to let go of him, choosing instead to kiss his neck with increasingly frantic purrs. Duck loses his balance, flopping onto the demon, head next to his on the bed, giggling into the bed.

“Here I was tryin to be smooth.”

“I do not care a hellhound's tail about smooth, and why is your face in the bed and not occupied with kissing me?’

Duck manages to roll of him and get into n actually workable position on the bed, on his side with his head on the pillows, “Don’t get demandin, sugar, or I’ll have to punish you.”

“Escaping from my arms is punishment enough.”

“Christ almighty, knew you’d be a needy little thing after you melted from a tiny bit of praise.”

Indrid lets out a shuddery breath as he crawls back into Duck’s arms, “I am, I need so much, I need you to praise me, kiss me, hurt me oh, oh goodness” he hides his face against the human’s chest, and Duck kisses the top of his head, “I usually have better control over my words than this.”

“Don’t you go apologizin for sayin the hottest thing I heard in months. Now, c’mere, got somethin for you.” He tilts Indrid’s head up to kiss him again. The demon smiles as he does, drapes one arm over Duck’s side and paws at his chest with the other, humming appreciatively whenever he finds a part of Duck he likes (which seems to be most of them). Their legs are tangled together, Indrid’s pajama pants riding up his calves the more he worked up he gets. 

It takes some wiggling to free his arms, but he gets a hand on a bony hip and the other back into Indrid’s hair. He tugs Indrid’s hair, growling a little when it makes him jolt and smush closer. Puts his thumb and finger round the base of one black and red horn, rubbing on it harder than usual. Indrid moans into his mouth, stops kissing for a moment to drags his lips along Duck’s neck. 

Duck does it again, keeps the motion up slow and steady as Indrid moans and presses his head against his hand, cock starting to harden against Duck’s thigh. Duck understands what he meant all those nights ago, when something about this same gesture paved the way for a soul bond. This part of him is sensitive, and just like giving a back-rub touching it can be sensual or tame. And speaking of backs…

His hand glides up beneath Indrid’s shoulder blades; he’s not ready to admit it out loud, but he committed the spot that let Indrid feels his touch on his wings to memory, some part of him having insisted they would do this again and he would want to remember how to make the demon fall to pieces beneath his fingers. 

They’re mid-kiss when he palms firmly over the spot. Indrid full on yells, the sound going from muffled to echoing as he pulls away. 

“Too much?”

“N-no, a surprise, a good one, I, I did not think you would remember.”

Duck raises an eyebrow, “Not remember how it made you sound? How goddamn good you looked smilin from the way it felt? Sugar, I plan on carryin that memory in my brain ‘til I’m six feet under.”

“No one has ever done such things and then remembered to do them again for meEEE” he bucks forward when Duck presses on the spot again, peppering his face with kisses. Duck dims the ache in his heart from Indrid’s confession by rolling them so the demon is on top of him, Indrid cackling with delight. 

The demon looks down, blinking, “why are you wearing so much clothing? For that matter, why am I?”

“Because you wouldn’t let go long enough for me to-”

Indrid twirls a finger and they’re both down to their boxers, their clothes in a jumble on the floor. He looks very pleased with himself. 

“Good thinkin. Fuck, can’t remember the last time I used magic in bed. Felt like I could never do anything impressive enough with it.”

“You hardly need to worry about that. This” he runs his hands up Duck’s belly and chest, “is impressive all on it’s own.” He scoots up slightly, cock rubbing through black fabric near Duck’s belly button, ass agonizingly close to Duck’s own half-hard-on. 

Duck mirrors him, runs his hands up Indrid’s chest and sides. He pinches his left nipple, then sits up slightly to kiss over the reddening skin.

“OH! Ohohthat’s very nice.” Indrid steadies his forearms on the bed as Duck guides them down, allowing him to lay on his back as he continues nipping and kissing the demons chest and shoulders. Claws prick his torso and graze his cheek, not even hard enough to leave marks, though he moans loudly all the same. 

“Mmmm, it seems you enjoy that.” Indrid reaches back, drags the claws along Duck’s thighs, making him arch and pull Indrid into another kiss. The fly of his boxers opens and a band of pressure circles his cock and he twitches his hips eagerly. Wait, Indrid’s hands are in his hair and on his waist, respectively. Which means…

“Is that your fuckin tail?” Duck asks when the demon releases him to breathe.

“Indeed.” A sharp-toothed grin, “My hands are otherwise occupied” He squeezes and Duck laughs.

“Shit, didn’t realize it was prehensile.”

“It does not come up often.” The pressure increases, Indrid attempting to flutter his eyelashes, “do you like it?”

As if Duck isn’t hard and starting to dampen the front of his boxers from the slow, alien stimulation.

“Yeah, I do, clever demon of mine. Now get that handsome face of yours back down here.”

Indrid blushes at the compliment, returns to his proper place; mouth open and eager for Duck’s kisses, face where he can hold it and savor each edge and curve. The demon quickens his strokes, smirking into their kiss whenever Duck moans or kisses into his mouth. 

“Coming part so soon my sweet? Hmm, perhaps I should be in charge after all.”

He’s so blatant he may as well have a sign hanging above him that says “attempting to provoke you” flashing above his head. Duck allows him a moment of feeling smug. 

“Oh dear, at a loss for words my duckli-AH _FUCK_ ”

Duck grabs his hair, pulling his head roughly up and back while his other hand finds the wingpoint again, rubbing it relentlessly. 

“Let’s get one thing fuckin straight, sugar: I ain’t hurtin you right now because I’m choosin to be gentle. Choosin to be sweet. But I could choose somethin else, and there wouldn’t be a fuckin thing you could so to stop me.” He growls all this as close to Indrid’s ear as he can get, the demon releasing a stream of little “ahnns” as he does. His tail is jacking Duck off rapidly, the slightly feathered end brushing over the head, and it’s so fucking good Duck grits his teeth, not wanting to cum until he’s done winding the demon up. 

“You’re mine, Indrid, you said it yourself. So fuckin _behave_ , or I’ll stick you in a circle, cum on that smug face, and leave you stuck and beggin me to cum until mornin’.”

Indrid makes a sound just shy of a wail, twisting his tail and digging his claws into Duck’s upper arms. It’s the kind of hurt he likes, and he licks his lips as he forces Indrid to meet his gaze, the demon whimpering and trying to get another kiss.

“C’mon, darlin’, earn your keepAHshit, yeah, _yeah_ , good boy, that’s it ‘Drid, Indrid, ahnn _fuck_.” He lets go of his head so Indrid can take the kiss, purring as Duck makes a mess of his tail and the bed.

Duck lays there, fairly sure his bones have all been swapped for spaghetti noodles, as Indrid continues kissing and caressing him.

“Thank you, thankyouthankyou, thank you for letting me make you feel good, Duck, sweet one, thank you so much.”

He wraps his arms around Indrid lower back, nuzzling him, “Any time, sugar. You wanna cum?”

“Please.”

“That’s my perfect ‘Drid, bein so polite. Here, sit up a sec, got an idea.” 

Indrid sits back on his heels as Duck sits up halfway, resting his head and upper back on the headboard. He grins at Indrid, watches the future dawn on him. 

“Oh, thank you.” 

“Seems to me this way you can still be kneelin for me and lettin me blow you at the same time.” 

Indrid scrambles in front of him, and once he’s up on his knees Duck peels down the black boxer-briefs. The cock waiting for him is as wild as he remembers; it’s tapered, five ridges leading down to a thick base, a little bumpy at the tip. This time, he can fully appreciate it, leans forward to lick from bottom to top. Indrid, fingers in his hair, moans sweetly. 

“Hands on the wall, darlin.” Duck pats his thighs as the demon obeys. Keeps massaging his legs, even as his hips push forward, bumping the head of his cock into Duck’s shut lips. Slowly, he parts them, Indrid too distracted by his teasing tongue to notice the hand wrapping around his tail. 

Duck tugs, yanking the demon from the warmth of his mouth.

“Nooo” Indrid whines quietly, “I’ve been good.”

“Yeah, you have, but I been wantin to do that for weeks.” He pulls again and Indrid moans, pre-cum dripping from his cock onto Duck’s belly. 

“Really? Usually people think it is...off-putting.”

“Really.” Duck rubs the velvety skin with his fingers, “thought plenty of times about pullin on it while I fucked you, wondered if it’d make you cry for me if I was rough on it, wondered if” he grips a little tighter, Indrid heavy-lidded when Duck looks up, “if I could hold you by it even if you tried gettin away.”

“Nnnnh” a scrape of drywall, Indrid’s chest rising and falling rapidly. 

“That’s for another time. Right now, gotta reward you for bein good.” With that he lets go, lets Indrid slide into his mouth. Keeps his hands on Indrid’s ass, kneading it, enjoying how it fits in his hold as Indrid cautiously ruts into his mouth. He lets Indrid do most of the work, hollowing his cheeks or lapping at the ridges when he feels like. Indrid is ecstatic above him, purring as he rolls his hips, trilling wordlessly whenever Duck makes a noise in his throat to tease him with vibration. 

Idly, he wonders how long Indrid will take to cum, smacks his hands lightly on his ass to see what happens. 

What happens is his mouth is suddenly full of demon cum, Indrid crying out his name as he jolts forward. Duck coughs, swallowing some and the rest coming out and down his chin as he splutters. 

“Oh, oh no, I am sorry-”

Duck just giggles as he wipes his arm across his mouth, “My own damn fault, didn’t know your ass was some sorta ‘cum now’ button.”

“It is not” Indrid pants, smiling, “it just felt delightful when coupled with that sinful mouth of yours.” The demon collapses onto his back and Duck shifts into his arms, resting his head above a rapid heartbeat as Indrid mindlessly pets his back. 

“That was so wonderful. You are so wonderful.”

“You too, sugar. You feelin okay? That wasn’t too mean?”

“No, not at all. In fact, you could be a hundred times crueler and rougher and it would only add to the pleasure.”

“Not sure about a hundred, but I can manage bein’ a meaner, uh, dom I guess. Not all at once though; still feel kinda bad about wantin that sometimes, and no way in hell am I ready to risk hurtin you in real way.”

“Understood.” Indrid murmurs, “There is no rush. As is perhaps obvious, I could subsist only on your kisses and die happy.”

Duck looks up to kiss his chin, “Glad we got all that mess worked out.”

Indrid purrs, “Me too, my sweet. Me too.”  
\--------------------------------------------------  
Indrid broke away from the rest of the guard a few moments ago, telling them he saw a worrisome future and to follow him when they’d made a sweep of the lower graveyard. Winding his way into the trees, in the fading light and falling leaves he spies a figure in a cream-colored coat. They’re sending golden sparks across the ground. It looks like a resurrection spell.

“Ah, excuse me, but that is not a wise idea.”

The being looks at him, rolls her eyes “As if I would listen to you, Cold. Especially since you are a demon now.”

“Literally any magical being on any plane knows trying a spell like that will end badly. And there are people coming this way who will ask you to stop as well. Better to quit while you are ahead.”

She raises her arm towards him. He readies a counter spell. And spots the mark on her wrist a moment too late. 

The light surrounds in a million fluttering pieces, like bleached, glowing leaves. There is no direction, no up or down, North or South, just space and time all collapsing in on him.   
He comes to as a burst of orange flies through the sky. 

“Aubrey, careful, I can’t tell where her spellcaster is!”

“Right here, you deviants.”

“What the fuck-”

“You? What the fuck are you doin in Kepler?”

“I was wondering the same thing, dear boy.”

“Wait, how the fuck do you know him?”

“Guys! Angry angel now, everything else later--aw beans, they’re gone.”

He sits up with a groan. Duck is already kneeling next to him, Ned hovering nearby and Aubrey surveying the scene with her hands on her hips. 

“Ezra Cotton was the, ahem, warden where Boyd was incarcerated. Everyone knew he had a bonded resident of the Above, which made him all the more able to torment his inmates.”

“Jesus.” Duck’s disgust is quickly replaced by worry as he helps Indrid stand, “I knew ‘im from T.V, he’s always yammerin on about how spellcasters got a duty to uphold the American way.”

“Ew.” Aubrey says, turning to face the trio. Indrid waits to see what she will say next.

Oh dear.

“I, ah, I fear his partner was also incredibly powerful. Because, as far as I can tell, that spell either dampened or destroyed one of my oldest powers. I, I cannot see the future anymore.   
\---------------------------------  
Mama drains the last of her cold tea, carries the cup to the kitchen and sets it in the sink. First feral vampires, then a surge in pain-in-the-ass, power-mad spellcasters, and now their newest guard just lost one of the things that could let them stay ahead of the next disaster. 

As she passes the door into the restaurant, she hears hushed, agitated voices and, not inclined to let yet another problem sneak up on them, pushes the door open. Stern is standing dress shoe to workboot with Barclay, gesturing to the lobby. 

“Everythin alright fellas?”

Both men look relieved to see her. 

“We got a big fucking problem, Mama.”

“I just got off the phone with Sheriff Owens; there’s been another one of those attacks. The ones that were not done by a wild animal, no matter what the coroner claims. Two more bikers, and this time, there may have been a witness. We” he indicates the cook, “are both concerned frightened or angry residents of Kepler will come to the Lodge in search of the culprit, though I am deeply suspicious of a feral vampire--if they are indeed feral and not just pretending--going undetected here.”

Like a storm coming over the mountains, she feels the trouble arriving in her bones. 

“What's that rumbling?” Stern looks towards the parking lot. 

“I have a bad feeling it’s the witness and a whole bunch of their friends.” Barclay glances at Mama, but she’s already moving. 

Waiting for her as she steps through the front doors are a dozen motorcycles, their rides all clad in yellow and black. 

The Hornets have arrived.


	9. Disciplined

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Duck buys groceries. Indrid does laundry. Stern gets and email

Duck arrives outside, having left Indrid, Dani, and Thacker to try and figure out if the demon’s powers could be healed, just in time to see Hollis, leader of the Hornets, dismount their bike.

“Sheriff Owens said it was y’all who’ve been doing a lot of the monster fighting.”

“We do some, but mostly we just put folks of all kinds up and offer a spot in town where you ain’t gonna have a good spellcaster and a bad dukin it out while you’re just tryin to eat.”   
Mama’s tone is neutral, and when Ned appears at the door, she shakes her head. He stays inside, leaving her and Duck out on their own. 

“Yeah, well, it turns out at least one of them wants something else. Four of my friends are dead because someone ripped their throats out. And I want to know why.”

“Can’t rightly say, just know it’s a damn shame anyone came up on the wrong side of a demon or a vamp or somethin else.”

“Oh, it was a vampire alright.” Hollis leans against the bike, revealing a spiked baseball bat tucked into a pouch. 

“Well, that narrows it down plenty. Don’t suppose you saw what they looked like.” 

“Tall, with a dark beard. Tried to chase it down, but it was too fucking fast.”

“Fuck, well, that gives us somethin at least.”

Hollis shakes their head, “It doesn’t matter as much as you think it does. Because you all are officially relieved of your duty. We’ll take it from here.”

Mama doesn’t try to stop them, stands tall and immovable as a sequoia as they Hornets start their bikes and fan out through town. 

“There a reason you didn’t let Ned out here to try and cover our asses?”

“More lies weren’t gonna help; Hollis ain't stupid, and I ain’t ready to burn through the last bit of goodwill we might have with ‘em. Besides, don’t quite sit right, bullshittin ‘em when they saw their friends die. C’mon, we gotta let the others know, and tell some of our guests they may wanna lay low for the time bein’.” 

Duck nods, holds the door as she steps through it, last of the motorcycle exhaust fading into the evening air.  
\----------------------------------------  
“I am not enjoying this one bit.” Indrid grumbles after the fifth time he fails to foresee and then intercept Ebony in her quest to raid the sink, “they’re not gone entirely, but having what visions I do still retain be on some sort of time-delay is maddening.”

Duck makes a sympathetic noise as he finishes reinforcing the wards on the house. Between Cotton, Billy's warlock, and now Balthazars spellcaster nearly causing a massive fire, Duck is damn sure there’s something bigger going on. Kepler spellcasters looking to cause trouble were usually small potatoes, even if they were bonded. Three high-powered ones wrecking havoc isn’t coincidental. That, plus the feral vampire and Indrid’s issues with his powers has Duck wanting to batten down the hatches, big time. 

Now if only he could get this final layer as tight as he wants it.

“Fuck, fight yesterday wore me out, can’t get this fuckin thing right.

“Allow me.” Indrid steps around the counter, standing behind Duck and raising his arm into a matching position, “try it now.”

This time, the spell comes out black and green, and locks exactly how he needs it to. 

“Thanks darlin.”

“Any time.” The demon rubs his temples, “I feel so out of sorts, it is nice to be helpful.”

“Can think of some other ways you could help me out.” It comes out before he considers how rude it is to make light of something that’s distressing his demon. 

But Indrid simply laughs. 

“It seems there is an upside to the delay; I get to be suprised by your jokes more often.”

“Was a shitty joke, but it’s nice to see you smilin.” Duck goes a bit starry-eyed as Indrid drapes his arms around him.

“I enjoy your jokes, good and bad.” The demon nuzzles his cheek.

“Y’know, lots of other ways I could surprise you. Only seems fair that you get some fun outta this mess.”

“Now that you mention it” Indrid is kissing along his forehead, “I have been thinking about your offer to be cruel to me. Perhaps my altered state would allow you some...creative ways of doing that.”

Duck growls a little to keep a lid on the lurid fantasies that conjures, grins at Indrid, “And here I meant somethin like a surprise date or flowers on your pillow.”

“I would like those as well.”

“I’ll keep that in mind. You wanna talk about the pain stuff now? I ain’t comfortable doin it without knowin what’s off limits ahead of time. And, uh, like I said, I ain’t really had a chance to explore it much, so might need some time to think about what I actually want.”

Which is how they end up curled up on the couch, Duck’s head in Indrid’s lap as they talk, the demon listening patiently as Duck outlines his concerns.

“...I’m supposed t’be a hero, a good guy. Not someone who wants to see a partner hurtin.” This he mumbles against Indrid’s stomach, feeling more exposed than he anticipated under that understanding red-tinted gaze. 

“This is a controlled hurt, one that would make me very happy. It is not as if you are wandering around town making people miserable for your own amusement.”

“I guess. Christ, it used to mess me up, denyin I wanted anythin to do with fightin or hurtin an enemy while jerkin it to the idea of leavin marks all over my partner. Minerva and I never tried it, didn't quite match up on that front, so I kinda figured I never would. Kind worried that if I go all in, you’ll end up permanently chained to the bed with constant handprints on your ass.” It’s technically a joke, but Indrid seems to sense the true fear beneath it, toying with Duck’s hair and humming thoughtfully. 

“Even with my disrupted foresight, I am confident saying indulging in your desires in the confines of our bedroom-”

Duck snorts at the formal phrasing and Indrid pokes his cheek with his tail. 

“-hush, small waterfowl, I am trying to be reassuring. As I was saying, this is not some gateway through which some hitherto unknown well of evil will spring from you. It is something we both want, something you can control, something that does not change your fundamental nature. You can be both one of the kindest humans I know and capable of raising welts on my skin while I climax.”

Duck takes one of Indrid’s hands, kissing his knuckles as he mulls over those words. The demon just waits for him, purring softly now and then.

“Ain’t sure anyone’s ever said it out loud like that before. Helps a lot. Thanks, sugar.”

Indrid purrs louder, hunches forward to kiss his forehead. 

“Would, uh, would you be willing to be kinda, uh, a pain the first time we try it, at least as the set-up? Might help me ease into it.”

Indrid gives him an entirely different smile, the one he used to use when he was about to make a wasp nest appear or a stop sign disappear. 

“I think that can be arranged.”  
\----------------------  
The air is already chilly by the time he locks up the visitor center. Fall is usually slower for them, in spite of the Monongahela changing colors, since the summer crowds are done and the snowbirds haven’t yet arrived. 

Today was no different, though they got a few school groups that he took on short hikes, having learned long ago to hold their attention by highlighting the weirdest, grossest parts of nature. He’d been a roaring success. 

He swings by Leo’s on the way home to pick up cat food and a few snacks for tonight. This is one of the strangest things to get used to lately; that even in the midst of potentially world-ending chaos, life has to go on as usual. It’s like a scaled up version of the way he felt after accepting his “destiny.” His whole life could be over in the blink of someone’s magical eye and he still has to get groceries and make sure the laundry is done.

At least Indrid was taking care of the laundry.

Duck gets home to find that the laundry has in fact been done. Everything else, however, is in complete disarray. Indrid’s yoga supplies are still strewn in front of the T.V, there are forgotten mugs of tea everywhere, drawings have landed everywhere _but_ the trash can, and Ebony is shredding her enchanted cat tree to leave black bits all over the place. At the center of it all is his beloved demon, laying on his belly on the couch, black silk robe riding up his thighs, tail twitching lazily. There’s a book open in front of him, but he seems more focused on wiggling his hips into the cushions. 

The ranger ignores the little trills of pleasure s he sets the bag from Leo’s on the counter. Tries to focus on setting up the scene, rather than jumping Indrid right away. They’ve planned this carefully, and he’s not about to get ahead of himself just because Indrid is already worked up

“Christ, sugar, looks like a tornado hit the house.”

“I have been busy. And then I got, nnn, a bit distracted.”

“Coulda picked up before you started humpin the couch.”

Indrid shrugs, “I could have, yes. But I am not your servant.”

“I know you ain’t.” Duck crosses to the arm of the couch nearest Indrid’s head, “But I’m the boss around here. Ain’t I?” He rubs the tip of one horn, runs his hand down Indrid’s cheek, the demon turning to nuzzle and kiss his palm. 

“Yeah, that’s my sweet IndrOWfuck” Duck pulls his hand back, glaring first at the teethmarks on it and then at the demon who put them there. 

Indrid grins, licking his pointed teeth proudly. 

“Now, that wasn’t very nice.” Duck sits on the arm of the couch, pulls off his shoes. 

“Demon.” 

“Yeah” Duck unbuckles his belt, pulls it off loudly, “ _my_ demon.”

“So you claimmmmoh” Indrid loses himself a moment, hips dragging forward and chest arching. Duck takes his chance, grabbing a handful of silver hair. 

“So I _know_.” He tugs, and Indrid gives a little hiss, “now, you gonna knock it off and let me be good to you?”

“No, my sweet little waterfowl, I will not.”

“That ain’t what you call me.”

“My duckling” the demon singsongs, “my charming anatinae”

“Indrid, this is your last warnin.”

“My darling, befeathered playthingGUhmmgh.” Indrid gasps, then growls, eyes narrowing and lips forming a sneer around the gag that just materialized in his mouth. 

Duck slides down onto the couch proper, keeping his hold on Indrid’s hair so the demon’s forced to sit up on his knees. 

“Hands in front of you.” 

Indrid rolls his eyes but complies. Duck doesn’t say anything, noting it for later as he wraps his belt around Indrid’s wrists, tightening it until the demon can’t free his hands. He tests to be sure it’s not too tight, then releases them abruptly.

When he slides Indrid’s glasses off, he sees just how brightly his eyes are shining with excitement. He can't help it; he leans in, kissing him first on his nose and then tenderly on the lips, savoring the purr that buzzes up Indrid’s throat. Then he trails his hands down the demon’s sides, the black fabric loosely tied and giving him an excellent view of Indrid’s lean form and bare skin. His cock is poking out near the bottom, the surrounding silk damp with pre-cum. And there's a matching spot on the couch.

“Addin to the mess, huh? Well, since you’re gonna be cleanin it anyway, let’s make the most of it. Over my lap.”

Indrid grins wider, makes a sound halfway between a purr and a growl. 

“Now.”

The demon practically oozes into his lap, and Duck sets a pillow on his right side so Indrid can rest his head on it, leaving his hips hanging just off Ducks left thigh, ass in the air and cock just shy of getting any direct stimulation.

“Much better. This way I can get my fill of you.” He runs one hand up Indrid’s back and one down his legs, then brings his hand down on Indrid’s ass, “while remindin you where you belong.” 

Indrid purrs louder, wiggles his ass.

“You like that sugar? Want another?”

A nod.

Duck moves his hand down, then grabs Indrid’s tail at the center and tugs.

“MPhmm”

“Let’s get one thing real clear, darlin; I’m callin the shots tonight. You don’t get to decide a single. Goddamn. Thing.”

A muffled moan, his tail curling around Ducks wrist. Duck has a little mercy, rubs it gently for a moment. 

“Now, we’re gonna watch a movie, just like this. I’m gonna do whatever the fuck I want, while you stay put like a good little demon.”

A trill at the praise as Duck picks up the remote. 

“If you can make it through the whole move without cummin, I’ll let you fuck me.”

Indrid looks over his shoulder, surprised and hopeful, ears perking up as he does. 

“And if you cum, well…” he smooths his hand over Indrid’s ass “I’ll use my good judgement.”

He selects a cowboy romance and hits play. Then he hits Indrid’s thigh, just for fun. 

For the first few scenes, he keeps his hand in Indrid’s hair, scritching his scalp and stroking his horns, dragging his robe all the way up to his back so he can watch his ass turn pinker and pinker with each slap. Indrid squeaks in surprise between his purrs, rubs his face into the pillow, and goes limper with each passing minute. 

While he’s cute like this, Duck can’t have him getting complacent, not can he?

He settles a hand just below Indrid’s shoulder blades, but instead of massaging his wingspot, he scratches his nails down it, then all the way to Indrids tailbone, the demon yelping when his fingers graze the more sensitive spots. Does it twice more, Indrid squirming, before bringing his hand down on each thigh in quick succession. Spends the first sex scene kneading and scratching his ass, pulling his tail because whenever he does the demon arches forward, pressing his body to Duck’s growing hard-on. Indrid’s hips are moving, but his position means he stands no chance of cumming. 

Unless, of course, someone helps him along.

“Roll over.” 

Indrid turns onto his back and Duck moans at the sight of him. His eyes are wide and happy, the gag is soaked from him mouthing at it, his flush is as intense as Duck’s own, and his cock is slick and neglected between his legs. His hands, still trapped, come up to pet Duck’s chest, the demon purring louder when their eyes meet. 

“Almost halfway through the flick and you ain’t cum. You’re doin so good for me.”

Indrid preens, baring his neck t the praise and Duck runs a hand up it to cup his cheek.

“It’d be a damn shame if something made you cum.”

Indrid cocks his head, smirking. Then he moans, eyes rolling back in his head as he cums, Duck’s hands nowhere near his cock. As he recovers, watches cum spilling down his shaft and onto the couch, he whimpers, casts pleading looks Duck’s way. Such a beautiful pay-off for such a simple spell, one Duck learned to compel particularly stubborn enemies to hold still or stop attacking so the fight wouldn’t escalate. Turns out it works on any bodily motion or reaction.

“Aw, too bad, sugar.” He grins with zero sympathy and a lot of pleasure, chuckles as he watches Indrid understand what happened. 

“Ats eating!” 

“What was that darlin? Can’t seem to hear you.”

Indrid glares at him, opting to growl rather than repeat himself. He looks wrecked but determinedly stubborn, and sends desire ll through Duck’s veins, desire for how wonderful he looks and desire to break him in until there’s no defiance left. 

He magics away the gag.

“That was cheating.” He huffs, cutting his hands emphatically through the air. 

“I make the rules, sugar. That wasn’t cheatin in the slightest.”

“It was not fair.” He pouts, though the expression loses it’s fire the instant Duck runs his hands gently up his side and down his leg. 

“Don’t be sore, that ain’t bein on your good behavior. But since you’re so goddamn handsome and I’m feelin generous, I’ll give you another chance; you make it through the rest of the movie without cummin again, I’ll fuck that cute little ass of yours sweet and slow.”

“Thank you, my sweet. I, I will be so good, I promise, I will-” Indrid stops, mouth still open, as he watches Duck’s hand migrate towards his softening cock.

“Wh-what are youAH, ahhhnnno, that's, that’s not fair.” He bucks his hips, as if that might dislodge Duck’s hand from his shaft. Duck keeps a careful eye on his face, to make sure the resistance is playful rather than heading towards a safeword. 

“Said I’d give you a second chance , not that I’d go easy on you.” Duck keeps his strokes slow, cock getting deliciously hard in his hand. 

“You, you are a jerk!” Indrid laughs and moans at the same time when Duck twists up.

“Jerk _ing_. Close, though.”

“I am going to hex you into the next century.” The demon’s legs are kicking and the end of his tail is thrashing wildly, his words coming out in gasps between his laughs and whimpers.

“Now you really ain’t bein good.”

“Wh-why should I, you, you are not playing nice so I will not eitherAHAHnnn, see, this is what I mean.” He throws his arms over his face as Duck laps at the head of his cock.

“Because if you ain’t my good, sweet demon, you’re just a toy for me to fuck however I want.” He slaps his inner thigh to drive the point home. 

“I, I can be both, please let me be both!” Indrid cries out, then trills as he spills across Duck’s fingers, whimpering pathetically as Duck strokes him through it.

“Yeah that why you been such a pain? You wanna be nothin more’n my toy tonight?”

Indrid nods, panting and licking his lips. 

“Fine.” Duck undoes the belt, pulls it way, “get on the floor, on your knees”

The demon thunks to the ground, scoots on his knees to sit between Duck’s spread legs. 

“Hands feelin okay?”

“Yes, completely.”

“Put ‘em behind your back, then.”

Indrid obeys and Duck leans forward, curling over him to tie his wrists together behind his back. Sits back, getting comfortable on the couch, as he says, “open your mouth.”

The demon parts his lips, tongue hanging out a little, and Duck undoes his fly. When he guides his half-hard cock into the demon’s mouth, Indrid moans gratefully and sucks hungrily, bobbing his head as Duck pets his hair. 

A glow of green appears in the air and Indrid watches it intently as it circles the base of Duck’s cock before fading away. He raises an eyebrow.

“That spell will make sure I don’t cum until the movie is over. And I ain’t leavin this sweet little mouth until then either.”

A sharp, nasal inhale, Indrid likely calculating just how long that will be. While he’s distracted, Duck sets both hands on the back of his head and shoves. There’s a ragged moan and a small choking noise as his cock pushes through the resistance and straight down into Indrid’s throat. The demon moans weakly, breath ghosting over Duck’s skin as he nuzzles him.

“ _Shit_ that’s good. Oughta made you my fleshlight weeks ago.” 

A moan and a nod. 

“I’m gonna let go, and you can use that mouth however you want. But just know that if I wanna fuck your throat, I will.”

“Uhum.” Indrid manages to smile around his cock and thank fuck for the spell becuse that sight would have Duck on the edge all by itself. 

He releases Indrid’s head and the demon immediately goes back to bobbing it. Duck does his best to watch the screen, but it’s hard when he can see his cock bumping and bulging Indrid’s cheek. They become twin wrecks, Duck sweating through his shirt, Indrid’s hair an utter mess and his cheeks bright red.

Indrid does his best, but with five minutes to go he droops forward, whining and chirring softly. The muscles in his neck tense and spasm, and Duck takes his head in his hands comfortingly. 

“You need me to take over?”

A weak nod, Indrid looking up at him with glazed over eyes and a goofily adoring smile, spit seeping out of one corner of his mouth.

“That’s a good boy, lettin me know what he needs.” Duck brushes his hair from Indrid’s sweat-slicked forehead.

Then he wraps a hand around either horn and yanks the demon towards him, pushing all the way in. There’s a sobbing moan, Indrids jaw slackening to allow Duck better access. He stays slow and pushes as deep as he can with each thrust, and soon tears are sliding down Indrid’s cheeks, spit dribbling down his chin. 

“That’s it sugar, take me all the way, lemme fuck that sweet throat so raw you’ll never mouth off again.” He pulls roughly, Indrid’s nose smushing into dark hair as he holds him in place, “feel me? Feel how deep I go?”

“Umhmm” Indrid purrs. 

The screen he’s barely paying attention to changes color. It’s the credits. 

“You wanna cum again?” He pulls him back and off so he can answer

“Yes, goodness yes please.”

Duck drops a throw pillow onto the ground between his legs, “That’s all you get, figure it out.”

“Yes Duck, thank youguUhhmmm.” His eyes shut as Duck shoves his cock back into his mouth, and he wiggles side to side, trying to get the pillow where he can straddle it. 

Duck undoes the spell, and then fucks in and out as violently as he dares. Indrid’s whole body jerks and he gags over and over as Duck ravages his throat, the muscles tightening wonderfully with each moan and cry. Indrid thrashes, half humping the pillow and half trying to escape, and so Duck grips his horns so tightly they bite into his palms. 

“C’mon sugar, no use fightin it, you’re my toy, my demon, and I’m gonna cum down your throat no matter how cute you look cryin, fuck, fuck, I’m so fuckin close.” He holds Indrid in place, the demon’s head still trying to instinctively retreat from the intrusion even as he moans with joy, fucks across his tongue as he watches his lips spread around his cock, sees his hips rutting and grinding at the bottom of the couch, robe slipped as far as his trapped limbs will allow it to, his whole body arched towards Duck, an offering he’ll gladly devour. 

Indrid’s throat tightens again as he cums with broken trill and Duck switches to rapid, short thrusts, chasing his releases as Indrid collapses forward.

“Shit, there we go, that’s it, take it, my fuckin perfect ‘Drid, gonna show you just what you’re good forFUCK, _fuuuuck_.” He chuckles darkly as he cums, Indrid struggling to swallow him, choking and gasping, yelping helplessly as Duck gives one more thrust before pulling out. Duck flops backward, panting as Indrid gulps down air before him. 

Duck claps a hand over his eyes, still giggling, “Fuck, sweet merciful fuckin chirst, ‘Drid, that was amazin.”

No reply. 

He sits up. Indrid is still in position, staring up at him, red eyes so wide Duck sees galaxies in them. His face is a mess of moisture, lips swollen and smiling. 

“Indrid? You okay?”

“Nnmm”

Duck slides off the couch, cupping Indrid’s face and magicking the belt onto the floor. Indrid’s arms ragdoll to his sides, but he’s otherwise still.

“‘Drid, darlin, was that alright? You hurt?”

“Nmm” Indrid tries to nod and shake his head at once, notices the problem and manages to whisper, “good. I am good.”

“Thank fuck.” Duck sighs, kicking off his pants and underwear before scooping the demon into his arms. He lays him don in the bedroom, turns to the bathroom only to hear a small “eh, eh.”

The demon has his arms out, looking a little lost. 

“I’ll be right back. Just gettin some surprises for you.” He tosses his shirt into the laundry hamper as he goes, sighing at the cool air on his hot skin. Returns with a damp rag, a bottle of Hawaiin Punch, and a bag of gummy stars. He helps Indrid sit up against the pillows, uncaps the bottle and hands it to him, cleaning off his legs and face as the demon downs the drink.  
Just as he tosses the rag away, Indrid’s face finds the crook of his neck, purring loud and happy and smelling of artificial fruit.

“There’s my Indrid.” Duck hugs him close, kisses his cheeks.

“Mmmmmmm, I am going to sleep for days. Right after you rub my shoulders.”

Duck grabs the muscle rub, eases the demon around so he can see to his back, kissing his neck and murmuring every piece of praise he can think of as he massages him. 

“You were magnificent.” Indrid murmurs. 

“You make it easy. Feel like I can be myself around you.”

The demon chirps, spinning in his arms to kiss him, innocent and eager. It only takes a nudge of his tail for Duck to lay back so the demon can settle atop him, making himself comfortable.

“You want somethin to eat?” Duck dangles the bag of candy.

“In a moment.” Indrid’s arms curl round one of Duck’s biceps, “right now I have everything I could ever want.”  
\------------------------  
Stern closes the file on Madeline Cobb, opens the one on Aubrey Little. There has to be something he's missing. Has to be some clue he can send to tide them over. 

He groans, tosses his pen across the desk in frustration. He's been at this for hours, ever since he got the email. And if he doesn't think fast, Agent Hayes will be here in a matter of days. 

And he'll be bringing reinforcements.


	10. Ruffled Feathers

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Aubrey decorates. Duck reads. Indrid sleeps.

"Where’s the other end of this extension cord?” Aubrey holds up the orange strand as Duck pauses setting out pumpkins to help her search, 

“It is in the good doctor's mouth.” Indrid, perched on a railing, points to where Dr. Harris Bonkers is nibbling contentedly on the electrical cord. 

“Shoot! Dr. Harris Bonkers you give me that this instant. Don’t you hope away from me young man!” As the witch dashes after the fleeing rabbit, Duck chuckles and rolls one of Dani’s giant heirloom pumpkins into place on the Lodge porch. He nods at Indrid, who casts a spell that will make the white pumpkins glow when it gets dark. Halloween is still two and a half weeks away, but Barclay has been steadily decorating the Lodge since the calendar hit October. 

“I understand why I cannot, but I do wish I could trick or treat. So many sweet things on offer.”

“Promise I’ll buy you as much of it when it goes on sale November first as you want. This banner straight?”

“Mmm, lift the left side just a tad. Much better.”

“Besides, I’m sure the Lodge party will have plenty of candy at the party. And you can eat from the bowl for trick or treaters as long as you promise to be good and not scarf the whole thing when my back’s turned. I remember the fruit roll-up incident.”

Indrid blushes, clears his throat, “I just had never had them before and got over-eager.”

Duck brushes dust from his hands, porch creaking as he crosses to kiss Indrid, chuckling when the demon chirps in reply. 

There’s a screech in the distance. The human shakes his head, “told Ned not to get those animatronic decorations, they go off if you look at ‘em funny.”

Indrid pulls back, gaze blank. 

“That is not a decoration.”

“Aw _fuck_.”

“This way, hurry!” The demon is off the railing and around the corner in a flash, heading towards the woods as Duck catches up with him. The sun is barely peeking out from the low clouds, and Duck--not looking forward to the idea of encountering whatever is making that horrific noise in the dark--hopes it holds out just a little longer. 

There’s a burst of energy from their left, and they bolt towards it.

“That is strange.” Indrid does not elaborate, but Duck soon sees what he means. When they turn into a clearing they find Agent Stern, silver pistol aimed at the sky, instead of a spellcaster. 

“Thank the lord. I am not equipped to deal with something this bad without warning.” The agent continues scanning the clouds. 

“Don’t like the sound of that.”

“You shouldn’t. But for fucks sake, watch the skies.”

Duck is shocked into compliance by the fact the agent just swore. 

“What am I lookin for?"

“That” Indrid points to a large, dark cloud. Two seconds later, a nightmare bursts through it. 

Long limbs ending in claws the size of railroad spikes, mouth like a Pelican Eel, able to distend and consume anything in it’s path between butcher-knife teeth. Milky white eyes, immense wings, all in a stony grey. A nightgaunt. 

Worse, a _tracker_ nightgaunt. A planar bloodhound, looking for some unfortunate soul.

“Right, Stern, get behind me, that stun-gun ain’t gonna work on this fucker. ‘Drid, might need you to help out.”

The demon nods, staying close as Duck casts his strongest barrier spell around the three of them. The nightgaunt dives, comes to a stop just before the ward. It doesn’t try to break through, instead circles them slowly, regarding each one of them with those empty eyes. Then it shoots back into the sky, and all three men start breathing again. 

“Guess it’s not looking for any of us.” Stern doesn’t reholster his gun. 

“We need to find the poor bastard it is lookin’ for, and fast. ‘Drid, any idea-”

A burst of fire into the sky, followed by a screech. 

“Aubrey!” It’s Duck’s turn to run, following the traces of the young woman’s power and the smoke from her spell. He only has time to register the nightgaunt diving towards two figures before he hits it with the hardest offensive spell he can muster, green light scorching through the trees. The monster reels, cracking through branches and out of sight. 

He rushes to the figures, finds Aubrey holding a spell above herself and Ned. 

“I, I thought it was one of the decorations malfunctioning.” The older man uncovers his head, 

“Is it after one of you?”

“I can’t tell.” Aubrey’s eyes are glowing, but even through the shine she looks afraid. 

“LOOK OUT!”

The nightgaunt hits them all at once, sending Duck skidding across the ground and Ned slamming into a fallen tree. By the time Duck springs onto his feet, the monster has Aubrey in it’s grip, snarling as the witch directs a blast of power into it’s chest. Orange cracks form, but the beast shudders and they disappear.

“Put me down you freaking bom-bom!” another burst, the monster baring it’s teeth and the witch not so much as flinching. 

In his periphery, Indrid is crackling red and black, and Sterns weapon is drawn. 

“I am afraid if we fire, we may harm her more than it.” Indrid looks between them, “the odds are not good.”

All at once, the nightgaunt drops her, shooting into the sky once more before they can stop it.

“Ow. Oh fuck! Ned!” Aubrey crawls over, shaking the older man, who groans , clutching his ribs.

“Shit, at least we know it’s not actually after you. Though that don't explain what it grabbed you.”

“Nightgaunts will sometimes mistake energies if two are very similar. Like with family members.”

Aubrey gasps, and Duck’s heart sinks. Judging by the look on his face, Stern knows why they’re worried. 

“We can’t let it find my parents!"

“You seen how fast that thing is? We’re gonna need a miracle to head it off.”

“Not quite. Hold these for moment, won’t you my sweet?” Indrid holds out his glasses, horns, claws, and tail all appearing, and Duck takes them instantly, tucking them into his pocket.  
The demon glances at Stern, “You may wish to step back.”

With that, Indrid stretches his arms and cracks his neck once. Wings, as perfectly black as Duck remembers them, emerge from his back, strands of electric black magic still hanging around them as Indrid flaps once, twice, and takes off into the darkening sky. 

“Wooohoo! Go Indrid!” Aubrey cheers as she helps Ned up. 

“This is bad.” Stern watches the demon disappear from view, but before Duck can ask what the fuck he means, the nightgaunt barrels out of the cloudbank, the demon right behind it. 

“Ummm, since when does Indrid have extra eyes?”

She’s right; Duck sees four more points of glowing red light, running at diagonals above Indrid’s usual eyes. 

“I got no fuckin idea.” 

There it is again, that slithering dread that even with the bond, there are still so many things he doesn’t know about him. They’ve slept side by side for days now, and he doesn’t even know how many fucking _eyes_ the guy has. 

“And we’ve got bigger problems.” Stern indicates the path of the chase, the fact the two beings will soon be right above the Lodge and thus on the border of town, “Mr. Chicane, can you walk, or should I call for medical help?”

“I can walk just fine, good sir. It’s not the first hard knock of my life.” All the same, he leans on Duck as they hurry through the trees, a huge crowd awaiting them in the Lodge parking lot. 

“I was not aware more of your associates would be joining us.” 

Stern takes in the four black SUVs with government plates, “Damn it, I told them to give me another week.”

“Aubrey!” Dani’s focus immediately snaps away from the fight when she sees her wife, rushing to her with a somewhat chagrined DR. Harris Bonkers in her arms, “fireblossom, what happened?”

“It attacked me, it’s after my moms.” She rests her head on Dani’s shoulder, the rabbit snuffling her nose as Dani kisses her forehead. 

Two figures converge on Duck, Ned, and Stern; Mama, and an older man in a dark suit.

“Don’t suppose you got any ideas on what to do if this don’t work.”

“Hit it with everything we got.” Duck would do more than that, would press-gang every spellcaster in the state into service if it meant saving Indrid.

“That will not be necessary. We have weapons that will work on it quite effectively.”

“With all due respect, Agent Hayes, they will not. My stun gun barely registered, and a nightgaunt is a category seven entity at least.” Stern straightens his tie as he speaks. 

“And yet you insisted the situation here was not in need of greater intervention.”

“This is an _extremely_ new development.”

There's a shriek of pain above them, and it’s not from the nightgaunt. Duck sees droplets of blood falling from Indrid’s fingers. He feels his fear, his exhaustion.

“We gotta do somethin.” 

“I ain't sure we can.”

Duck wonders if he’s somehow got caught in that red mist again, if that’s why he’s seeing Indrid limping in the air, dodging claws with less and less accuracy while Duck is powerless to save him. 

Indrid raises his hand. 

There’s a ripple of black in the air. The nightgaunt disintegrates before it even gets the chance to screech. 

The demon looks down at the crowd, gaze pausing on the cars, on Stern and Hayes, and on Duck. Then he dematerializes, a few black feathers floating to the cement as he does. 

“Agent Stern?”

“Yes, sir?”

“Were you _also_ unaware there was a category ten loose in town.”

“‘Loose seems rather unkind, given what he just did. But no. No I did not know it was.”

“It looked to have a soul bond which, given the reports of aggressive, bonded spellcasters in town, is a bad sign. Any idea who it might be tied to?”

The agent doesn’t so much as turn his head.

“No sir, none at all.”  
\-------------------------------------------------------  
He’s so tired he can’t remember the spell to get through the wards, and so Indrid ends up crawling, undignified and swearing, through the mirror and landing with a thud on the bathroom floor. 

This is where he stays until the front door bangs open and rapid footfalls announce the arrival of a certain ranger. 

“‘Drid! ‘Drid?”

“In here.” He groans, rolling over onto his side. 

“Thank fuckin god-oh, _shit_.” Duck goes worryingly pale when he sees the smear of blood on the tile. 

“Apologies, the patch I put on it is not holding well. Also for all the mess.” He gestures to the feathers, pulled free by the flight, fight, and his messy entrance into the house.

“Indrid, I don’t give a single goddamn fuck about the mess.” The human drops onto his knees, “I could feel how hurt and tired you were all the way here, all I could think about was gettin back to you before it got worse.”

“Oh. I, I assumed you would be angry with me for intervening as I did. For putting you in danger.”

“Given I was about to put myself in the same spot, can't really be mad at you for that.” Duck guides Indrid’s head into his lap and Indrid purrs weakly at how safe he feels.

The cabinet creaks open as Duck summons bandages and antiseptic.

“Need you to shift your wing a little,yeah, that’ll do.” Duck cleans away the blood, casts a small, slow-burn healing spell, and securing a bandage to his chest and another on his upper arm.

There’s hesitance in the bond, then. “You got a little blood on your wings. It okay if I touch ‘em?”

“Yes.” Indrid opens his left wing slightly, warm fingers carefully carding and cleaning the feathers. He manages a louder purr, rubs his cheek against Duck’s thigh.

“Feel good?”

“Mmmhmm. It has been a long time since anyone touched them in the material plane, myself included. I have never been very good and keeping them preened and tidy, but it has been literal years since I saw to them properly.”

The human carefully arranges the feathers he’s been cleaning into their proper alignment, “ain’t that a shame.”

The longer he tends to him, the more the worry in the bond lessens. As it does it reveals confusion, and even some fear. 

“Your eyes are back to normal. Or, uh, was that normal? What you had in the fight.”

“It was an attempt to disguise myself. I was concerned there may be unfriendly eyes on the fight, and I did not want them to immediately work out it was me. That could endanger both of us.”

“Smart thinkin. C’mon, let’s get you somewhere you can actually rest. You wanna be in your bed or mine?”

“Yours. I, ah, I enjoy that it smells like you.” 

The human helps him up, keeps an arm around his waist to steady him the few feet to the bed. Goes willingly when Duck guides him onto his back, checking him once more for injuries before stepping back.

“I’m, uh, I’m gonna take care of some chores and such while you rest up. Holler if you need me.”

“Understood.” Indrid wants to ask what's wrong, where that mistrust in the bond is coming from. His body has other plans, dragging him down into a restless sleep. 

The next time he wakes up it’s only for a moment, as Duck draws his favorite blanket up around him, taking care when he tucks it in near his wings. 

When he finally rouses more, it’s to a clock reading 3 a.m, an empty spot in bed beside him, and dread welling up in his stomach. The pillows on Duck’s side of the bed suggest the human has been here at some point, sitting up against the headboard, reading.

Reading that book, bound in black leather, that is sitting open near the foot of the bed. 

Indrid sits up, summons the book, and finds the dread in his belly doubling in size. It’s a book of Demonology, left on the page discussing category ten beings. Morbidly curious, he scans the words. 

“ _...originate from both planes. They are rare, and the majority do not venture onto Earth, too valuable to their respective communities to risk encounters with hostile humans. When category tens do cross over to Earth, they seldom do so in peace. This is why their common names over the centuries have been ‘Harbingers,’ ‘Dukes of Hell’ or, most frequently, ‘Angels of Death.”_

He sets the book in his lap, still staring at it. Yes, humans always did like that last term for him. 

“Were you ever gonna tell me?” Duck’s voice is tired, but the bond is coursing with energy. 

“I was hoping to avoid the details. Hoping there would never be a situation where the full extent of my power would be necessary. That you would think me only slightly more powerful than average.”

A soft snort, “Ain’t thought that since you protected me from Billy’s human. The power you sent through the bond, it was a hundred times stronger than anything I ever felt.”

“Then why did you not say something then?” If he had more energy, he’d be annoyed. 

“Because you were still bein cagey about your past, asked me not to pry into certain things, and I didn’t! Hell, half the reason I looked into it now was because Agent Hayes called you a category ten when he saw you. I know the basics of that scale, but not the specifics, seein as I got no formal trainin on this stuff. And, look, Indrid, the bond don’t mean we can never have secrets or privacy, but this is _big_ , the kind of big that has the FBI wanting to track you down. They probably can't, thanks to your disguisin yourself and Stern lyin through his teeth, but this is the kind of secret that could get us into trouble or worse” Duck meets his eyes, “get you taken away. So...please. Please tell me the truth.”

Indrid shuts the book, runs his fingers along the cover as he gathers his thoughts. 

“For much of my time in the above, I was the court seer. Now, as you likely know, while my kind are often born with powers, we can also increase them through experience and, more rarely, through gifts. My foresight and much of my power was inborn, but I was gifted the remainder by Woodbridge and a few others to assist in a plan that they insisted would help keep our realm safe. You see, they feared that humans would one day decide to try and conquer the Above and Below. They cared not at all about the Below, but they spent years devising a plan to keep humans from daring to even think of attacking the Above. And so they told me to use my foresight to see when great disasters would hit Earth. I was to then arrive at the scenes of those disasters during, or directly before or after, the tragedy, and let humans fill in the cause and effect on their own. Which they did, and then all we needed to do was make a few pronouncements or warnings to solidify in their minds that the Above was capable of inflicting mass death whenever it pleased. For a time it worked perfectly but I...I grew weary of being blamed, of being seen as an omen of death and destruction.” He gouges a line in the cover of the book. Duck simply leans against the doorframe, waiting for him to go on. 

“I brought my frustrations, and my concerns that maintaining peace through fear was a flawed plan, to Woodbridge and the others. They assured me I was seeing things wrong, that I was not only helping our home, but the humans as well, by preventing a war. It did little to ease my conscience or soothe the pain of being the scapegoat for mass death. And there was another issue; I was growing far fonder of earth and humans than of my own home or kind. So I began to rebel, to try and save humans from those disasters. Warn them, even rescue them if I could. I was careful, but word got back to Woodbridge and the court and they demanded I stop, said that if I continued in my disobedience I would be stripped of my title, duties, and powers. I chose to deny them that chance. I fled Below. And do you know one of the caveats of gifted powers, Duck Newton?”

“Nope.”

“A gift can only be given, or revoked, if the entity is still a citizen of your domain. Woodbridge cannot lessen my power, because I am no longer a subject of the below.” He smiles, still a little proud of finding that loophole, "I kept my powers hidden to a degree, as the court of the Below is run by a family that does not think highy of humans, and I was a afraid they would demand a similar service from me. Hence my reputation as a rather incompetent demon."

Duck’s face is unreadable, and the bond is a mess of both their emotions and therefore no help at all. Indrid slides the book across the bedspread so it’s near the human, “That is the end of my tale. That is the truth.”

“A lot to take in.” Duck says, unhelpfully. 

Indrid’s wings begin drawing around him, “I understand. I, ah, you may have as much time as you wish to make what you will of it. But there is one thing I must know before you do.” He crosses his arms, gripping his elbows, “are you afraid of me?”

A shake of the head, footsteps across the floor, “No, Indrid. I ain’t afraid of you.”

“Oh thank goodness.” He collapses inward, hissing in pain when the motion aggravates his injuries, “owdamnit, I, I thought you were, I felt it, and I couldn’t bear the thought, I would have asked you to send me away so you would not have to live in fear-”

“Hey, shhh, hush now.” Duck sets the book on the floor, sits on the bed facing Indrid and cups his face, “I was scared, but that’s because it’s been a fuckin terrifyin evenin. And I was worried about what you might not be tellin me, what that could mean for us and our friends, but I wasn’t afraid of you. I never will be. And I ain’t gonna turn you away. You’re my demon. My Indrid.”

“Always.” Indrid sniffles, tucking his head beneath Duck’s chin, retracting his wings so they can hold each other more easily. 

The humans kisses one horn, then the other, “you wanna know the other reason I got that book down? I, uh, I was tryin to learn how to care for your wings. Don’t wanna fuck ‘em up on accident.”

Indrid trills out a laugh, “I doubt you could make a mistake that severe, but I will gladly walk you through it. Tomorrow. Because I am tired and you look as though you may pass out at any moment.”

Duck pulls back, smiling at him before planting a sleepy, adoring kiss on his lips, “You got a deal, sugar.”

Indrid sleeps the remainder of the night and well into the day, awaking to find a note from Duck telling him to take things easy and stay out of sight, directions Indrid has no trouble following given how tired he still is. So he naps and reads in the autumn sun, feeling every inch the spoiled pet. The sensation is heightened when Duck arrives home and pats the bed next to him. Indrid takes his place beside him, spreading his wings halfway. 

“I got dry shampoo, you sure that'll work.”

“I believe so. Oh, ah, please take care of these two areas” he gestures to the innermost parts of the wings, “they're...sensitive.”

The arched eyebrow and smirk suggest Duck is storing that information for later.

“Just mist a bit of that here and then stroke down with your hands and that shouldrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrr.”

“-Do it?” Duck finishes his sentence with a smile.

“You are a fast learnerrrrrrrrrrrrrrrr.” He never used to purr like this, these bouts where it’s so intense it impedes his speech. Never even thought he could, until Duck touched him that fateful night. 

“How rrrrrrrr was rrrrrr yourrrrrrrrr day rrrrrr?”

Duck recounts his adventure with a stubborn bear box and the status of the fall foliage. By the time he’s telling him bout his hunt for the good bags of Halloween candy, he’s done with both wings. 

“...I mean, gonna have to ward it so that we don't eat the whole damn thing before the big day. Can you turn, or should I scooch?”

“Can turn.” Indrid really does mean to spin in a half-circle, not melt face-first into the bed as he actually does. 

“That works too.” The mattress squeaks and then Duck is straddling his ass, coaxing his right wing open, “same idea?”

“Yes, though if you find broken feathers please pull them, quickly like you were ripping off band-id. They can get infected or bothersome if left broken but attached.”  
Duck gives a quiet “got it” and gets to work. He’s humming an old country song, arranging and stroking the feathers in tidy handfuls and soon Indrid is purring once more, nearly asleep when Duck reaches the tip.

“OW!” He yelps, one second before Duck actually pulls the broken feather free.

“Shit, sorry-”

“No, it has just been awhile, I forgot how unpleasant that can be.”

“Uh, there’s another busted one next to it.”

“Very well” Indrid squeaks when this one is pulled loosed.Then chirps when Duck’s mouth brushes the stinging spot. 

“See, over fast. And you did so good for me.”

He hides his face in the blankets; how dare this human make something so patronizing sound so tender and true?

From then on, whenever Duck pulls a feather free, he pauses to kiss the same spot and murmur some tame praise in Indrid’s ear. It’s as innocent as cotton candy on a spring day, but Indrid is half-hard by the time Duck sits up and climbs off him. 

Indrid rises as if dreaming, swaying into Ducks arms. 

“Gotta say, pretty damn proud of the job I did.”

“They” he yawns, stretching his wings where he examine them “they look much better. Thank you, my sweet.” 

Duck rests his chin on Indrid’s shoulder, “Any time, sugar.”

The demon assumes that offer will need to wait at least a few more days, but when Duck comes back from game night on Thursday, the first thing he does is ask if Indrid would like him to groom his wings while they talk. And he’s not about to pass up the chance to have Duck touch him, especially so intimately. 

“M’sorry you had to skip.”

“It is alright, it is for the best that I avoid Hayes and the others, even though I missed playing with everyone.”

“Nah, I meant I’m sorry I had to listen to Jake complain that he didn’t have your help at charades.”

Indrid turns and headbutts him, snickering. 

It’s now Saturday afternoon, and Duck is once again running his fingers through his feathers, stroking the sleek black as Indrid sighs happily.

“You know, sweet one, you do not need to offer to groom them in order to touch my wings. You may touch them whenever you like.”

“Oh, uh, th-thanks, sugar, that’s, uh, fuck, exactly what, fuck-” The drawl is bashful, and after several more painful seconds of attempted lies, Duck adds, “but I really, really like doin it like this. Like I’m, uh, serivin you. Makes me feel real, uh, good.”

Indrid licks his teeth as he turns and oh yes, there it is; Duck, cock hardening in his jeans, blush spreading across the curves of his face. 

“Would you like to know a secret, my sweet duckling?” He grins, voice dipping lower. 

“Uhuh.”

“It makes me feel good as well. Very” he twitches his tail once, “very” twice, “good.”

He doesn't get to twitch it a third time, as Duck groans, “thank fuckin god” and pushes him backwards. 

“I, I mean don’t get it twisted” Duck kisses his neck, “I still like doin it just because I like touchin you, like makin you feel safe and cared for, but christ alive-” he sits up in order to sink his hands into the center of Indrid’s wings, “you got any idea how you look like this? How fuckin incredible you are, like you got the fuckin night sky in your feathers and I wanna fall into it, want you to wrap ‘em around me so tight and close I can hear your heartbeat. You’re look so fuckin stunnin, all ethereal and shit, and it makes me wanna howl at the goddamn moon because you’re one of a kind, and you’re _mine_. Better yet, you’re you. You’re my Indrid.”

Whatever emotion is coming through the bond is so powerful Indrid chokes out a sob, has to look away from Duck for a beat because the look in his eyes is like nothing Indrid has ever seen before. 

“Duck” he just manages to form the word, reaching up to touch the humans cheek, feeling Duck’s smile widen when he does.

“Yeah, darlin?”

“I want you to fuck me.”

Duck buckles forward, resting their foreheads together, “Yeah, hell yeah, let’s do that.”


	11. Thirst

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Indrid relaxes. Duck enjoys himself.

Indrid flicks his fingers, sending their clothing into a jumbled pile and summoning a packet of condoms and the bottle of lube to the bed by his feet. Duck glances down at the bandage still on his side, where the slashing claws cut was deepest

“You sure it ain’t gonna hurt you to do this? We can wait, or I can move-”

“If we stay in this position I think it will be fine. Besides” he spreads his wings wide, “it gives you an ample view.”

Duck makes an unfamiliar noise, somewhere between a whine and a growl. The muscles in his arms tense noticeably as his gaze rakes over Indrid’s wings. 

“Gracious, If I’d know you would like them this much, I would have kept my wings out ever since we bonded.” He smiles teasingly, tracing his fingers up Duck’s chest, dark hair tickling the skin.

“Look, I ain’t ever had a partner with wings before, I’m as surprised by this as you are.”

Indrid grins, “Really? No impure thoughts while regarding Christmas decorations or valentines cherubs?”

“Hush.” Duck dips down to kiss him, fingers finding the down of his wings, “and open your legs a little more so I can prep you.”

“No need.”

“‘Drid, I know we both like pain, but that’s-”

“Nono, I have already prepped. The benefits of magic never cease.”

Duck’s face does some delightful things while processing that sentence, and then he’s ripping open a condom wrapper and sliding it on. Indrid considers keeping his legs closed, making the human work to open them, maybe pin him down or rest a warning hand on his throat. But all his darkest fantasies fade to white noise under the voice telling him just to yield. He wants this, wants Duck, wants to open himself to him in every and any way.

He spreads his legs, plants his feet on the bed to give Duck a better angle. Strong hands cup his ass, squeezing, and then the thick head of Duck’s cock is pressing slowly inside.

“Good demon, lettin me in.”

Indrid whimpers at his tone; it’s at once ten times sweeter and a hundred times more possessive than he’s sounded during their rougher adventures. 

“You like that, like the idea of takin me?”

He nods, whole body coiled with anticipation.

“Good. ‘Cause you’re gonna take me so deep, you’ll feel me in your fuckin lungs.”

Indrid moans, hands flopping up to either side of his head in surrender. 

“That’s it darlin, surrender. Let me take care of you.” 

“Please, please, I do, I will, whatever you want, it is yoursOHFUCK.” He arches off the bed as the base of Duck’s cock thuds against his ass. The human groans, hips twitching as he gets comfortable

“You. Ain’t that obvious?” Duck smirks, sliding halfway out before shoving back in. 

“I, I suppoOHse it is.”

Duck snickers, brushes their noses together, voice sweet as he muses “now, where was it…”

His right hand finds the sensitive band in Indrid’s wing, fingers digging into and electrifying him with pleasure.

“AHHhhnnnn, goodness yes, there.”

The human shifts up, plants his left hand in the same spot in the other wing, smoothing his thumbs long the fluff as his hips built to a steady, slow pace, “god, it’s so fuckin _soft_.”

Indrid purrs, tail curling loosely around Duck’s leg. There’s adoration and lust in every atom of the bond and he's sinking into it like a warm bath.

“And so fucking beautiful and stunnin’. I just wanna, wanna-” he drops down onto his elbows, buries his face in one wing. Indrid expects him to come up instantly, spluttering from the down, but instead his wing vibrates from the loud moan Duck spills into it. 

He trills in response, words already failing him, stolen away by the sheer force of Duck’s desire. Stretches his wings and discovers a delightful side effect of their relative positions; by bracing on his forearms, Duck is putting pressure on the entirety of the sensitive bands, so whenever one of them moves it sends delicious shudders through Indrid’s chest. 

Indrid gasps and Duck raises his head, the demon turning his so they’re eye to eye. 

“Still alright?” The human whispers.

“N-no one has, has ever done that before. No one has ever wanted me so...fully.”

Duck leans in the two inches to kiss his cheek, “I want you.”

Indrid bites his lip with a little moan.

A kiss to his shoulder, “I want you.”

“Duck” It’s a whimper as he cups the back of the humans head, keeping it there best he can as the ranger moves, purring in time with the rhythm of his hips. 

A kiss on the top of his wing, “I want you” and then another as he noses lower down, “I want you.”

The bond is pulling warmer and brighter through Indrid’s veins as Duck continues the onslaught, kissing his chest, his sides, his face, and always, always coming back to his wings and lips for more, the repetitive sentence turning to loose sounds and then hungry, possessive, thankful moans in the human’s throat. 

In spite of being on his back, Indrid’s legs give out from the sensations, falling limp against the blanket, short claws of his toes catching stray threads. On a whim, he sinks his teeth into Ducks bicep. The human moans, licks his lips as Indrid sucks a bruise into the skin. 

“Mine.” The demon purrs.

“You, fuck, you know it, now be a good demon and do that again.”

Indrid gladly obeys, biting and licking, savoring each cry or grunt it earns him. Sweat coats his tongue and, just beneath it, he can taste Duck’s soul, woodsy and tantalizing as he laps it down. 

Each time he does well Duck praises him but he wants more, wants to give the human whatever his heart desires. As Duck’s thrusts speed up and his words consist mainly of curses and Indrid’s name, the demon manages to wrap his wings around them both.

“Oh fuck, oh ‘Drid, good boy, puttin those perfect things where I can reach ‘em. Fuck that’s somethin else, makes me feel so close to you” They’re pressed chest to chest, and as he fucks him harder, Duck’s belly rubs along Indrid’s cock. The heat, the slick of pre-cum and sweat and the increasingly ragged tempo of Duck’s thrusts has him bucking up weakly. Save for his wings, he’s gone limp and pliant, Duck’s drawl caressing him, drawing him further down into the warmth of the bond until his world is only the man above him. 

He cums without any warning, wings flexing for an instant as he gives a shallow, gasping cry, spurting onto Duck’s belly. He’s still shaking when Duck cups his cheek, punctuating each thrust with a sharp shove up.

“Such a good demon, cummin just from me fuckin him. But you still made a mess, sugar.”

He whines, hoping his wide, teary eyes convey it wasn’t on purpose. 

“Seems only fair that I get to make one too.” Duck pulls out and Indrid keens softly. 

“Sit up.”

Indrid makes it halfway before flopping back down.

“I said: _up_ ” A green spell curls out, encircling Indrid’s throat. Duck tugs his end of it and the demon is pulled up, the warlock taking care not to choke him, and Indrid moans, claws settling on Ducks hips as the human settles with his back to Indrid’s chest. 

“Put your wings around us again.”

Indrid drapes them around Duck’s shoulders, mouthing sweetly at the back of his neck and kissing his head to the filthy sound of a hand running rapidly up and down a slicked-up cock.

“Wings look real pretty like this, darlin, but they’ll, fuck, look even better with my cum on ‘em.”

“ _Yes_ ” Indrid wraps his arms around Ducks waist, watches his hand pick up speed as pleasure reverberates down the bond. 

“Fuck, sugar, one of these days I’m gonna strap you down and cum on evey inch of ‘em becaue you’re mine, my Indrid, shit, there we go, yeah, _fuck_.” White spatters across the lower feathers, catching the edge of each wing. As Duck’s hand stills, Indrid sees the soul mark glowing, and his own doing the same. 

He doesn’t linger on it for long, as Duck is spinning in his arms, all traces of spells evaporating so that the only thing keeping him upright is Duck, the human kissing him over and over even as he continues panting from his orgasm. Indrid’s wings are still around them, and Duck lazily strokes the feathers of the left one.

“Could stay here forever.” He murmurs, resting his head on Indrid’s shoulder. 

“I as well. Although, ah, we may wish to clean that before it dries.”

“Oh shit, good point. Sorry, was lettin my horny brain drive.”

“And I enjoyed it immensely. I, I had heard of my kind touching each others wings during courtship, but I never thought anyone would do it for me.”

“Well, now you know you got someone who’ll do it in a flash. Do lot more than that too, and I ain’t just talkin sex.” Duck cups his cheeks with both hands and Indrid mirrors him, resting their heads together. 

“You can start, sweet human, by cleaning my feathers.”

Duck smiles at him, “Oh no. What a fuckin imposition. I’ll got get that brush you like.”  
\----------------------------------  
“Not gonna lie; I’ve had it up to hear with those self-righteous fuckers.” Mama tosses the newspaper down on the table, and the ad is just as bad as she said it was. Reconciliation has a full page urging the citizens of Kepler to join their ranks and demand an end to the magical presence in their town. 

“They do know that’s, like, impossible right?” Aubrey glares at the paper, which begins to smoke.

“I wouldn’t put it past them to make things so bad for folks from other planes, or for magic humans, that people went into hiding or left. Which is as good as gone, in their book.” Barclay says from his spot on the ottoman. They’ve decided to meet in Duck’s house for the time being, as it’s well guarded and not crawling with FBI agents, and so the Pine Guard is sprawled though his dining room and living room. 

“Don’t suppose you picked up anythin’ helpful while eavesdropping on ‘em?” Mama looks at her right hand man.

“Nothing we don’t already know. Which means I’m gonna lobby hard for banning them from the Lodge.”

“Fine by me; they don’t like our kind, they don’t get to benefit from our labor.” Dani fidgets with Dr. Harris Bonkers ears. 

“Fine. I trust y’all to make the right calls and head off trouble. Speakin of which, Thacker, any luck findin a way to reverse that spell on Indrid?”

The demon perks up, then looks disappointed the instant before Thacker says, “Nope. Isabelle Wood, the entity who cast it, is mighty powerful, especially when she uses her soul bond with Mr. Cotton.”

“Isabelle...that is why she looked familiar. She worked with Woodbridge at the same time I did. I cannot imagine how she bonded to a human.”

“From what I could dig up, it was almost like a business contract, though why with Cotton I don’t know. By all accounts, they hate each other.”

“Well, keep an eye on ‘em, and keep lookin. Preferably not at the Lodge where someone might see what you’re researchin.”

“Or at the Cryptonomica; we have had two separate visits from gents, often trying to talk to Billy. He feigned non-comprehension, like the smart young man he is. Also Boyd, ah, encouraged them to leave.”

“Fucks sake Ned, please don’t give ‘em any reason to arrest any of us, includin you or him.” Mama rubs her temples, then leans back in her chair, contemplating the ceiling.

“This is gonna sound bonkers, but I think we might want to ask Stern for help.”

They all turn to look at Aubrey, who shrugs, “I’m just saying, he didn’t seem happy that Hayes was here.”

“Yeah” Dani adds, “and when he talks to Barclay or Jake, he never sounds like he wants to hurt vampires or demons. He mostly sounds like a huge nerd.”

“Him talkin’ to Barclay is part of the problem. Need I remind you that the description Hollis gave Sheriff Owens, who gave it to the FBI, of the feral vamp sounds a hell of a lot like Barclay? I’m amazed we’ve made it this long without Stern questionin’ him.”

“It’s, uh, it’s okay with me if you want to try it.” Barclay looks down at his hands, “J-, Stern is a smart guy, and I know he doesn’t like Reconciliation or Hayes. I can take one for the team if it comes down to it.”

Mama eyes him a moment, frowning, then nods, “Alright, if you think it’s worth a shot, I’ll have Aubrey, Ned, and Duck talk to him. See if you can get him on our side or, if nothin else, get those fuckin files way from him.”

“Why are you sending Duck?” Indrid cocks his head, “he cannot lie.”

“Because if Aubrey and Ned can’t cook up a story, Duck bein honest about what’s been goin on with you might be our best move. And if that fails, he’s strong. One bonk over the head and Stern goes into a closet until we sort this mess out.”  
\--------------------------------------------------  
Two days later, Duck, Ned, and Aubrey knock quietly on Stern’s door a little after two in the morning, coming at the spur of the moment after Aubrey called to tell them the other agents had gone out for an all night stake-out deep in the woods. 

When no one answers, Ned kneels down and the door pops open a few moments later.

The room is empty, blinds drawn and lights off. 

“Maybe he went with them” Aubrey whispers. 

“Fuck it, let’s find those files.” Duck waves them forward and they split up. 

The bed is a mess, papers are scattered everywhere, Sterns coat is on the floor in a heap along with his shoes, and water is dripping from a knocked over cup on the nightstand. 

“Jeez, thought the fella was tidy, but this a fuckin mess.” 

“When I last gained entry, it was impeccably organized.” Ned peers beneath a chair that’s been shoved at an odd angle against the wall. 

“Um, guys?” 

They turn, find Aubrey holding something up in the faint light from beneath door. Something that glitters silver and six-pointed. 

Sterns vampire repelling talisman. With a snapped chain.

All three of them jump as a cry of pain comes from their left, tripping in the dark to throw open the bathroom door. 

Stern is standing in the darkness. Or, more accurately, he’s hanging limply in the arms of something that looks over his shoulder with glowing eyes. Worst of all are the two, sharp fangs sunk into his neck.


	12. Urges

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Ned gets some paperwork. Indrid carves a pumpkin. Duck makes a catch.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Content note: Duck and Indrid act out a scene where Indrid is a weaker demon trapped by Duck. Discussion and check ins are shown, and Duck still only proceeds with the sex part of the scene with explicit consent within the scene.

“Fuck” Duck readies a protective spell. He’s got fucking _nothing_ on him to fend off a feral vampire. 

“Oh no.” Aubrey covers her mouth, horrified. 

The vampire has raised his head and is looking at them with a very familiar face. 

“Barclay?”

Their friend growls a little at his name, arms tightening around his prey. 

Stern’s head lolls to the side, his glazed-over eyes suddenly focusing on the trio.

“It’s alright, big guy. You know them.” His usually professional voice is a little slurred.

Another soft growl, Barclay dipping his head to drag his tongue along the bitemarks. 

“....The fuck?” Aubrey flips on the light.

“Said I could.” Barclay’s voice is small, and the longer he looks the more Duck realizes the vampire is hiding behind the human.

“He, he’s not doing anything I didn’t ask for. We, um, had a bit of a conversation, which turned into an argument, which turned into, um, this.” 

“I, uh, I haven’t, haven't’ fed off a human in years. Haven’t even wanted to but…” Barclay whines, nosing Sterns shoulder.

“It’s hard to say no to this face.” Stern caresses the cook’s beard.

“Can we back up to the part where you fuckin _told him you’re a vampire_?!” 

“I decided to take a chance and, uh, honestly I wasn’t too sold on your guys trying to talk someone you only kinda know into helping us. Since we’d gotten close, I thought I had a shot at making him understand.”

“I was not exactly pleased to learn what Barclay and the rest of you were keeping from me. But we, um, we worked it out.”

“...and did the ‘workin it out’ happen before or after the room got trashed?”

Barclay and Stern trade a sheepish look.

“After.” Barclay mumbles. 

“While it is a relief that you are not feral and devouring our sole governmental ally, this raises some new concerts. For instance,” Ned gestures to Stern’s neck, “how do you intend to hide those bitemarks from your superiors?”

Stern looks at them, then two small punctures. With a flick of his finger, they disappear.

“Wait, since when does the Paranormal Division let spellcasters in?” Aubrey narrows her eyes.

“They don’t. Which is why none of them know. It helps that I’m barely a spellcaster; I can do a few small spells at most. That helps me avoid detection.” He crosses his arms, “I thought for certain that once I was in and earned power and respect, I could reveal myself and get the rules retracted. A misguided idea on my part.”

“Yeah, given how Hayes talks about Indrid, doubt he’s reconsidered the ‘no magical beings’ rule.”

“Wait, what’s he been sayin about ‘Drid?” Duck looks worriedly at Barclay.

“That he’s behind the increase in malevolent magical activity in town.” Stern steps past him back into the main room, searching for something. 

“Like hell he is!”

“We all know that's not the case, but unless you feel like telling Hayes you’re bonded to Indrid and exposing him to potential capture, it may be best to let him hold onto the misconception for now.”

“Ain’t our relationship in those files? I men, uh, fuck, the, the files I uh, assume you got, not ones Ned’s seen aw fuck.”

Stern undoes the lock on the tiny safe in his room, opening the door as he says, “why, Duck, I have no idea what you mean. I’ve already given my files on the town to Agent Hayes.”  
With that, he removes a stack of manila folders, holding them out to the ranger and wearing the expression of someone learning just how much he enjoys bending the rules. 

Duck takes the files, hands them to Ned because if anyone knows how to hide them it’s him, “why are you doin this for us?”

“Because I got into the UP to help make the world safer for all kinds of beings, not just humans. You all have that same goal, even if you got about it slightly differently. And I went with Hayes to that Reconciliation meeting, and while he’s intrigued by their promise of keeping the peace, I’m not so sure. For instance, they had information about those two attacks that it makes no sense for civilians to have. And their version of peace seems to hinge on having more and more of these rallies and meetings, rather than any actual concrete proposals. I suspect they want to scare people into giving them money or power, nothing more. On a personal level, their word choice gives me the heebie-jeebies.”

“That’s the only personal reason?” Aubrey smiles teasingly, and the agent looks at his toes.

“No. You’ve discovered the other one. I, I like Kepler a lot, even if the people here do not always like me. And…” he looks over his shoulder, “I can’t bear the thought of Barclay getting hurt. Not by the FBI or anyone else.”

“Aw, babe.” The cook drapes his arms around the agent, kissing his cheek, lips still a little redder than usual. 

“Can you keep going to those meetings? I don’t think any of us re welcome, but we could really use the info.”

“I’d be happy to Aubrey.”

“Sweet.”

“Yeah, uh, thanks man. Uh, look, about Indrid. I agree with you about layin low, but if part of that means Hayes is gonna blame him for bad stuff, I gotta ask if he’s okay with the plan. He’s, uh, he’s had that happen in the past and it made him fuckin miserable. I ain’t willin to agree to it for both of us.”

Stern thinks for a beat, then nods, “Understood, and that seems only fair. If he decides he wants to try and clear his name, come to me first and we can strategize.”

“Deal.”

“Okay, is that all the serious stuff, because now I gotta go tell Dani we don’t have to feel weird about liking the biting-”

“TMI TMI!” Barclay covers his ears, “she’s like my sister.”

“C’mon y’all, let’s give ‘em some privacy” Duck shoos the laughing pair out the door.

“Don’t get too blood drunk, or dic-”

“Goodnight you three.” Stern chuckles before magically shutting the door.

“Y’know” Aubrey says as they walk down the hall, “he’s alright, for a huge nerd.”  
\------------------------------  
It’s a week until Halloween, and Indrid is distracting himself by ruthlessly carving a pumpkin. He’ll put a spell on it so it doesn’t rot before the big day; he needs to stab something, badly.

It’s not agreeing to Duck and Sterns plan that has him stressed; even though he doesn’t enjoy Hayes thinking him the source of al Kepler’s trouble, it’s nothing compared to the old days of rubble and horrified screams. It’s that for the last two nights, that damn Pomeranian has shown up in his dreams. Every time it does, it calls him the worst of his kind, an overpowered monster. 

Even when he drop-kicked it into the ether, it returned to taunt him more. 

While whoever did it may work for Woodbridge, it’s not the entity himself. He’s never been one to torment him, just scold him. On the one hand, it’s a good sign in that taunting him in dreams means whoever is controlling the emissary either can’t get past the new wards or can’t even locate his physical body. On the other, it makes him painfully recall all the times he’s been seen as a terrifyingly powerful being. Which he is, but that doesn’t mean he wants to hurt people. 

Duck’s week is not going much better. The human has been taking advantage of the fact he’s lived in Kepler his whole life to gauge how people feel about Reconciliations attempts to quash magic in the town. The outlook is not good. Even people who know spellcasters or residents of the Above and Below have been scared enough by the vampire attacks and magical disasters (or attempted disasters). More and more have been saying they’ll attend the big rally planned for the night before Halloween. 

The front door opens and Duck comes in, hanging his hat by the door and bending down to greet Ebony. Indrid simply watches for a moment, wondering if this is something he could have everyday. He has, for the last few months. And given the bond, he could continue to have it. But he’s also been reading, found many accounts where bonded demons lived away from their humans. Most never, ever enter into a romance with them

He and Duck may be boyfriends, but such things are not always permanent. Duck may grow tired of him in that way, may decide that he only needs his soul linked to Indrid’s via the bond and not in any romantic way. May decide Indrid is too dangerous to have as a boyfriend or husband.

“...to ‘Drid. You okay?”

“Hmm” he looks at the human, now standing near the table with Ebony in his arms, “oh, ah, yes, I got a bit distracted. You have that effect on me.”

“Flatterin, but I know your worry comin through the bond when I feel it. And you look like you're goin for the gourd-mutilation world record.” He points his elbow at the pile of pumpkin flesh on the newspapers Indrid put down on the table. 

“I am carving. Behold, our cat.” He turns to pumpkin so Duck can see and the human smiles a moment. 

“Mighty fine likeness, ain’t it fuzzball?” Duck lets the cat jump to the floor, “now stop dodgin the question, darlin.”

“It is nothing. Or, ah, I suppose it is nothing in the face of all the other troubles we are dealing with.”

“Tell me anyway?” The ranger sits in the nearest chair, face tired but open.

“I have been feeling lately as if everyone sees me as nothing more than an overpowered monster that could turn destructive at any moment. I know I said once that I did not enjoy being underestimated, but now it feels as if the universe over-corrected in addressing my dislike of that. And it is doubly silly to wish to feel powerless when the power I relied on for decades is malfunctioning so badly. I just want to feel differently for a little while.”

“Howsabout cuddlin with your boyfriend while dinner reheats? Do my best to make you feel like the sweetest, most perfect demon in the world.”

Indrid is not about to turn down a chance to be in Duck’s arms, and soon he’s snuggled beneath a blanket, head in Ducks lap, as they watch Ebony pursue one of her newly animated mice toys. The longer they stay there, talking about their days and eating leftovers, the better Indrid feels, and in the bond he senses Duck’s mood taking the same turn. 

As he’s starting to slip into the kind of relaxed, sleepy state induced by a warm cocoon on a chilly fall night, his mind is calm enough that a fantastic idea floats to the forefront.

“My sweet” he lazily pets Ducks belly through his shirt, “would it be accurate to say you might like the chance to lean into being very mean and in control with me in bed?”

“I mean you know I like that, and the last few days are makin me feel like bein a good guy ain’t all it’s cracked up to be. What do you have in mind?” He rubs up and down Indrid’s horn, and the demon takes a moment to purr before responding. 

“I would like to pretend that you are a far less scrupulous warlock and I am a far less powerful demon than we truly are, and that you have caught me to do your bidding. We would have all our normal precautions in place, and we can add more if you wish. But I think it would be enjoyable to have an evening where we can step into roles and pretend in a way that may allow us some release from our frustrations.”

“You’d really trust me to do that?” Duck asks quietly, stroking Indrid’s hair. 

“I trust you completely. If you do not like this idea, I will drop it, but know that even without my foresight working as it should, I know I am safe with you.”

Duck blushes, affection rippling down the bond.

“...can your wings be out durin it?”

“Of course, my sweet.”  
\-----------------------------------------------------  
Candles flicker as Duck steps into the bedroom, their flames bright enough to illuminate most of the room and, importantly, the figure on his bed. 

Indrid is in a red dress shirt and black jeans (the outfit he admitted he would have worn had he been trying to seduce Duck from the get-go), feet bare and horns polished. He’s trapped, sitting upright with his legs out in front of him, hands bound by a spell at the wrists and pinned to the headboard above his head. His wings are out, pure black and twitching weakly as he argues with the spell trapping his hands.

“Aw, c’mon now, I put you up in the nicest room in the house and you’re tryin to run?” Duck shuts the door as Indrids head whips forward, the demon eyeing him warily through a curtain of mussed, silver hair.

“What do you want?” He hisses, tail twitching excitedly.

“My own personal demon. And it seems to me I got one. Gotta admit, that trick almost never works.”

Indrid looks down, ashamed, “No one has ever asked my name before. Demanded, yes, but never asked.”

“Not even other demons?” Duck slowly unbuttons his work shirt as he walks to the bed.

“They scoff as soon as they hear it. My reputation precedes me.” Indrid glances up, gaze freezing on Ducks torso, the exposed undershirt and what it suggests. He swallows, tilts his head so their eyes meet, “What do you want with me, Duck Newton?”

“You. I just want you, demon of mine.” 

“I am not your-”

“Oh I think you are.” Duck sits on the bed, turning and staring him down, “I got your name, and while we ain’t, uh, fuck, uh we ain’t not soul bonded?” 

Indrid chuckles, “you bound me to the place perhaps?”

“That works, thanks sugar.” Duck leans in, kisses his cheek before putting the hint of dominance back in his tone, “trust me, it ain’t as bad as you’re thinkin. I ain’t gonna make you do my dark biddin or some shit; I want your company, Indrid. I wanna take you and take care of you.”

Indrid’s breath catches.

“You like the sound of that?” 

“Yes but, but I, I am not certain why.”

Duck smiles as sweetly as he can as he moves forward to sit between Indrid’s legs. “Other folks in the Below, they pick on you, don’t they?”

“H-how do you know that?”

“I know an outcast when I see one.”

“I am odd and not powerful. Therefore I am not popular nor am I valuable.

“Then what’s so bad about all this? Why not stay here, let me take care of you?” Duck leans forward to stroke a high cheekbone, but Indrid shrinks backwards.

“You do not want to take care of me. You, you clearly mean to do me harm now that you have me.”

Duck lowers his hand, resting it on Indrid’s knee, “There’s where you’re wrong. You may be all mine, and I got some, uh, intense plans for you, but that don’t mean I want you sufferin. I look after what’s mine.

“You would truly do that?” There’s fragile hope in that voice, while the bond is echoing messages of _yes_ and _yours_ between them.

“Yep. For starters, we need to get some food in you. I know you burnt up some energy when you followed me earlier.” He crosses to the dresser, picks up a bag of Hershey Kisses (in Halloween wrappers, Indrid charmed by the novelty of them being glow-in-the-dark). Pulls the foil from one as he kneels in front of Indrid on the bed.

“Here, think you’ll like this.” He holds it to the demon’s lips. He sniffs the candy, but keeps his mouth shut, expression deeply suspicious.

“Open your mouth, it ain't poison or anythin bad like that.”

Indrid stays still. 

“ _Open_.”

The demon gasps as the spell forces his jaws apart, then moans softly when Duck places the sweet on his tongue. He eats it slowly, as if he’s never had it before, eyes shut and humming as he swallows. When they flutter open, he looks at Duck shyly. 

“May I have more?”

Duck snickers, unwraps another, holds it up. This time Indrid opens his mouth instantly, humming again as he eats. They repeat this enough times that a noticeable pile of foil appears on the bed.

“That’s enough for now.” Duck sets the bag aside, sweeps the foil onto the floor. Indrid whines, licking his lips as the candy disappears from sight.

“Gonna start callin’ you sugar, you like sweet things so much.” Duck grabs the waterbottle he set on the nightstand earlier, cupping Indrids chin as he helps him drink it. When he sets the bottle down, instead of retreating from Indrid’s space, he sets his hands on the top of his wings.

“What are youOH! Ohohohoh _oh_ ” Indrid writhes as Duck uses a spell to pull his wings open slightly and drag his hands down the sensitive spots.

“ _Fuck_ yeah, always wondered what these felt like. Thought about gettin my hands in ‘em ever since I first saw ‘em.” He digs his fingers in, loving the texture and the way Indrid moans and opens his wings more on his own.

“Yessss” Indrid relaxes backwards as Duck rubs circles into all the right places, noting smugly that the demon is getting hard.

“That’s a good demon, spreadin himself out for me. See, you and me are gonna get along just fine.”

“Yes, goodness yes, please, I will do anything, anything you wish so long as you promise you will do this again.” Indrid’s wings are angling towards Duck, offering themselves eagerly.

“Anythin, huh? In that case, these have gotta go.” Duck sits back, snaps his fingers and the demon’s shirt and pants disappear, landing in the laundry basket. He’s in those tight black boxer briefs that drive Duck wild, a damp patch already spreading on the front of them. Indrid’s chest rises and falls rapidly, the points of his ribs and hips noticeable and a tell-tale flush slinking up his skin. 

“These too.” He reaches forward and plucks Indrid’s glasses off, folding them and setting them aside. It’s this that finally causes the demon to curl inwards. The demon doesn’t safeword, and his tail and wings are shaking excitedly, but Duck feels _exposed_ coming through the bond, and it’s so genuine he thinks fast, looks for a way to comfort him without breaking the scene. 

“Now sugar, ain’t no reason to be shy. Not lookin the way you do. Christ” he runs a hand up Indrid’s stomach and chest, “amazed they didn’t make you an incubus.”

“Th-there is no such thing. There are simply those of my kind who find sex enjoyable or useful.”

“My point stands.” He switches to drawing his hands soothingly long Indrid’s long legs, “you’re the most perfect lookin man I ever laid eyes on.”

Indrid trills softly at the praise, relaxing under Duck’s hands.

“You’re so fuckin stunnin, and you’re alllllll mine.” His thumbs find the dip between Indrid’s hipbones and inner thigh and strokes the space, Indrid’s hips bucking when he does.

“C-careful, warlock, I can AHnnn, can still work my magic. I am not as weak as you suppose.”

Duck knows this, of course. Hell, half the reason he’s comfortable with this scene is that in addition to his safeword, Indrid could easily teleport him out to the living room if needed.

“Oh yeah?” He sits back on his heels, crosses his arms, “show me.”

Black light zips towards him, and Duck doesn’t even bother putting up a ward. It hurts less than the time Ebony bits his hand through his winter glove. 

“That the best you got?” 

“Yes.” Indrid hangs his head, more to conceal his smile than anything else. Duck tilts his chin up, and the demon does his best to look apprehensive, “do what you will with that information.”

“Indrid, if you say you don’t want this, I’ll leave you be and never bring it up again. But I want you to answer me somethin: Why were you followin me?”

“I, I was intrigued by you, I wanted to know you. I, ah, I found you handsome and your soul singularly enticing. I...I wanted to be near you however I could. And I wanted you to find me the same. I wanted to be in your service, even if I did not dare articulate it as such.”

“Well, in case it ain’t obvious, I want you real fuckin bad. I’m gonna make you mine, my Indrid. You like that idea?”

“Very much.” Indrid murmurs. 

“Good. Means I didn’t brew this up for nothin.” Duck stands, grabs a bottle of deep red liquid from the dresser and downs it on his way back to bed. It’s not quite an aphrodisiac; it’s an elixir that for a window of about two hours, removes refractory periods and makes the drinker able to orgasm as much as they please. 

“Oops, mighty rude of me to drink it all. You want a little?”

Indrid nods, opening his mouth. Duck tips the dregs onto his finger, sliding it between Indrid’s lips.

Sharp teeth connect with his skin.

“Owfuck!”

“I said I wanted this, not that I would turn into some sort of docile demon just because you are more powerful than me.” Indrid grins.

Duck sighs, shaking his head, as he tosses the bottle onto a pile of clothes,“I had a hunch you might say that. Guess I’m gonna need this after all.” He produces a thin-necked vial, holds it where Indrid can see it clearly “holy water’s always good for bringin demons in line.”

This time Indrid utterly fails to hide his delight. Bringing holy water into the scene was his idea, and he'd sat beside Duck as the warlock found the safest dilution, one tht would sting but not harm him, purring the whole time. 

Glowing eyes track the bottle as Duck climbs back onto the bed and sits between Indrid’s legs. He uncorks it, wits a beat, and then pours a stream of it on Indrid’s lower belly. 

The demon gasps and whimpers all at once, muscles of his lean frame tensing as the water skates down his skin, stopping at his hips. When Duck rubs a stray droplet in, he moans and rocks his hips side to side. 

“I’ll be damned, you like that. Fuckin lucky me, because your face looks fuckin handsome when you scream.”

“I am not screamingAHahAHhhhnn” the drop barely hits Indrid’s inner thigh but the reaction is enough to make Duck’s cock stir with interest.

“Like I said, real fuckin handsome. But I think you could look better.”

Indrid jolts in surprise when a red, silk blindfold appears around his eyes.

“Perfect” Duck tips some liquid onto his thumb, drags it up Indrid’s side as he crawls atop him. The demon is panting, lets out a needy whimper when Duck’s lips ghost across his own.   
“You want a kiss?”

A frantic nod. 

Duck leans in, Indrids lips parting when he does. Then he takes the finger just dipped in the water and presses it to the center of Indrid’s lower lip.

The demon yelps, tries to pull back, but Duck is ready, gripping his hair and forcing his head forward.

“Suck.”

Another whimper as Indrid obeys.

“Let’s get one thing straight, sugar. You want somethin, you ask for it real politely. And if I’m feelin generous, and you beg sweet enough, I’ll give it to you. Understand?”

“Uhhummmm” 

“Good boy.” Duck pulls his thumb away, braces his hands on Indrid’s thighs as he tenderly kisses the bottom lip first, before capturing Indrid’s mouth with his own. There’s a buzz as Indrid’s hands twist, trying to free themselves so he can hold him. Duck cups his face, deepens the kiss, swallowing up grateful moans until he’s lightheaded.

“Thank you.” Indrid sighs when he pulls away.

“Any time, sugar.” He replies, too caught up in the blissful expression on his boyfriends face to remember the game. 

Then Indrid relaxes back, neck slightly bared, and he gets a wicked idea. 

He drips holy water down the column of his neck, and even as the demon cries out and grinds into empty air, he’s leaning in to lick it off, soothing the area with kisses afterwards. 

“Duck, yes, perfect, more, pleasepleasepleasemoreOhmmmmph.” The demon grins against his lips as Duck kisses him again, before pouring another rivulet down his collarbone, licking and sucking it up before once again kissing it better. 

“Now you’re gettin the idea, darlin. Your pleasure, your pain, it’s all under my control, and all you gotta do to be a good demon is to take whatever I wanna give you.”

Indrid responds with moan, which turns to another yell as Duck drips liquid from the vial onto his left nipple before dipping down to suck it clean. He chuckles, repeats the process on the other side, then down and down Indrid’s chest and stomach, until he’s tormented and kissed every inch of it. As he mouths across his belly, he feels the demon rocking his hips, clothed hard-on rubbing Duck’s shirt. He’s almost there himself, jeans becoming uncomfortable, but he didn’t make this dilution for nothing. So he dribbles the last bit down Indrids right leg, chasing it with his tongue as the demon's tail thrashes nearby. 

He sits up, wiping his mouth before ripping off the blindfold. Indrid’s eyes are already a bit glazed, and the instant he sees Duck’s face he starts purring. 

“You wanna keep bein a good demon?”

“Please.”

Duck uses the spell on his wrists to slide him down the bed until he’s fully on his back, straddling his neck without preamble and releasing his aching cock. 

“Suck.”

Indrid shifts his head up, taking as much of the cock down his throat as he can manage given the angle. Duck lets him build up a rhythm, red eyes falling shut. Then he grabs his horns, using them to push him back and trap his head against the bed. 

“Did, did I displease you?” Indrid looks like he may cry.

“No” Duck clears strands of hair from his face as he adjusts his position, “you were doin real good. But I'm so goddamn wound up that I need to control the pace.”

With that he hunches forward, head resting on a pillow, and fucks all the way into Indrid’s throat. There’s a cough, a garbled sound of surprise, and then a steady moan as drives down again and again. 

“Fuck, yeah, that’s it, lemme fuck that perfect face, shit, good demon, such good demon, you’re gonna be tastin me for weeks when I’m through.”

Indrid moans louder, and Duck finds his hands, holding them as he slams down so hard he sees cartoon stars behind his eyes as he cums, Indrid whimpering and swallowing as it spills down his throat. 

The demon purrs as Duck climbs off him and turns him sideways so that his head is nearly hanging off the edge of the bed. Moves the spell so his hands are bound behind rather than above him. 

“Yeah, this’ll do nicely.”

“F’what?” Indrid blinks slowly at him, head cocked. 

In lieu of a proper answer, Duck hurriedly jacks himself off, grunting as he cums in record time across the inside of his right wing.

“Ohhhh” Indrid nods in understanding, and opens his wings wider, covering the length of the bed as he does. That gets Duck’s hand moving again, air filling with wet sounds of skin moving over spit-slicked skin.

“Good boy.” Is all he gets out before he cums on the left wing, Indrid chirping happily when he does. 

As soon as he steps directly behind Indrids head, the demon opens his mouth.

“There we go, you already figured out what that sweet little mouth is good for.” Duck cups his head and shoves his cock down, Indrid’s throat tightening wonderfully as it adjusts to the intrusion. The tips of his horns just graze Duck’s legs, and it’s only through stubbornness that his knees don’t give out from the combined sensation of that and Indrid’s mouth.

He picks the same pace as before, watches with glee as spit seeps out of Indrids mouth, jaw going slack in his attempt to take him. Setting his hand on Indrids throat earns him a delighted whimper.

“Hmm, can’t, fuck, can’t quite feel myself through here. Never was one for body moddin spells, but think I can make an exception just so I can feel my cock down your throat from both sides.”

Indrid whines, pumping his hips eagerly, and Duck is so close himself he decides to be nice. 

Well, sort of.

He makes Indrid cum with a flick of the wrist, the demon’s eyes rolling back as Duck’s cock stretches his mouth, a picture of the filthiest ecstasy imaginable.

“Fuck.” Duck groans, pushing all the way forward as he cums, hand still around Indrid’s throat so he can feel him swallow, having to fight gravity and surprise to do so.

As soon as he finishes, Duck twitches a finger and uses the same spell on himself. Indrid’s eyes widen and he chokes so loudly Duck double checks for their signal, feels around in the bond for any sign of _stop_. 

What he feels instead is a flood of sensation, all affection, lust, and desire to please. Duck’s never been in a subspace, but he has a hunch that’s what he’s feeling from Indrid.

That settled, and climax ending, he does it again.

This time Indird arches, legs kicking and wings whapping weakly against the bed, eyes wet as they meet Ducks. The human just grins and laughs, rolling his hips lazily, carelessly, as if he can’t hear Indrid struggling to swallow as his face is firmly pressed to his body. He squeezes lightly with the hand on his throat and Indrid squirms pitifully, traces of cum trailing from his mouth. 

Then, just for the hell of it, he makes Indrid cum again. There’s a muffled cry, tears escaping his eyes, as Indrid coughs and completely fails to stop the remaining cum from spilling out and down his cheeks.

He gasps when Duck finally releases him, and there’s a print from the base of Duck’s zipper in his skin. 

“Did say I was gonna leave you tastin me for weeks.” Duck reaches down to clean the corner of Indrid’s mouth, pressing his fingers between pliant lips, Indrid doing his best to suck them clean.

“Yes” Indrid slurs, “such a lovely promise.”

Duck pats his cheek fondly, “Only the best for my demon.”

Indrid bites his lip, the expression comically adorable from this angle, “But, but you have not touched me to give me release. That would be the best.”

Duck adds a stern edge to his voice as he tucks himself back into his clothes, “I let you cum twice, don’t get greedy on me.”

Slowly, with significant effort, Indrid rolls onto his belly, stealthily shifting the spell so he can sit up on shaky, bound arms to fix Duck with a plaintive stare, “that is not the same. I want you to make me cum while you touch me, claim me.” His swollen lips jut out a little, and he widens his eyes.

He’s _pouting_ , and it’s the cutest goddamn thing Duck’s ever seen. 

Dom Duck, however, knows he can’t give in too easily.

“You want somethin, you know how to ask for it.”

“Please.”

He rolls his eyes, “please what?”

“Please fuck me!”

Duck grabs his hair, yanking his head up at an awkward angle, growls, “I give you permission to fuckin swear?”

“N-no, but, but you never said-”

“I said I expect my demon to be fuckin polite.” He climbs onto the bed, and when Indrid tries to turn and follow him he snaps, “stay put.”

“But I can AH!” His claws dig into the blanket when Duck roughly yanks his tail. 

“Christ, I fuck your throat raw and you’re still talkin back.” He brings his palm down on Indrid’s ass and the demon yelps (and instantly pushes his hips back to ask for more), “guess you ain’t s subdued as I thought.”

“I am, I swear!” Indrid is close to wailing, and his tail winds into Ducks other hand. The human takes the hint, pulls it again and Indrid’s ears perk straight up, his wings opening for a moment.

“Then prove it.” He snarls, smacking Indrid’s ass over and over, harder each time. Until the demon’s head drops forward with prolonged whine. 

Deep, shuddering gasps reach him, and he pauses entirely, suddenly terrified he missed the safeword. 

“‘Drid? Darlin, do you need me to stop?”

Slowly, a horned head raises up. 

“If you stop now, I, I will curse your bloodline for ten generations.”

The delivery of it is so perfectly, utterly Indrid in its matter-of-factness that Duck bursts out laughing, leaning forward to rest his face in a wing. 

“Whatever you say, sugar.”

He sits up, unzipping his pants before thinking better of it and banishing them and his boxes to the laundry basket. With Indrid’s underwear, however, he takes his time lowering down inch by inch, the demon shivering as he does. 

“Guess it’s time I show you just how serious I am about makin you mine.”

Indrid wiggles his hips, and when Duck tries to tease him his tail wraps around his cock, stroking it and trying to coax it forward.

“Eager. I like that in a demon. Now” he pushes in, Indrid moaning loud enough to shake the bed, “I’m gonna fuck you so hard you’ll be thankin every force in the universe you were weak enough to get trapped by me.”

Indrid purrs, which becomes a sharp, high trill as Duck pounds into him, slapping his ass and pulling his tail until the room is filled with happy sobs and cries of thanks. When he feels himself getting close, he hunches forward, kissing Indrid’s back and wings as he reaches round to stroke his cock. It takes exactly four jerks of his hand and then the demon cums across the bed and goes limp. Duck follows moments later, cumming deep in him with a string of curses. 

Then he fucks him twice more, just to hear him whimper and moan, notice how his words disappear into simple sounds, and to watch his body bounce from the force of Duck’s thrusts. He finishes for the last time on his ass, smacking it one final time with his free hand because he likes seeing his handprint in red on that tan skin. 

“Nmm?” Indrid turns his head weakly, and Duck spots teethmarks in the bedspread. 

“All fucked out, sugar. How about you?”

The demon blinks, slowly, then nods. Duck scoots up the bed, petting his hair, “I’m gonna go run you bath. Don’t go nowhere.”

‘Kay.”

Duck starts the water, tossing in a black bathbomb since Indrid is endlessly entertained by black bubbles. The demon is still facedown on the bed, but teeters eagerly into the bathroom on Ducks arm. 

Once Indrid is in the water, Duck strips off his button down and sweat-soaked undershirt. The demon’s wings are out of the water, balancing on either side of the tub. Duck holds up the brush and Indrid nods, chirping happily when he sits in his lap and begins cleaning the stained feathers. Usually the bath is enough to bring Indrid out of subspace, but by the time Duck is drying him off and bundling him into his robe, he’s still a little hazy-eyed, his answers still loopy and sleepy, though he manages to dematerialize his wings. Even though Duck promises to be right back when he gets back to the bedroom with juice and a granola bar, Indrid looks relieved to see him. 

Duck changes into sweatpants and his old Yellowstone shirt, reclining in bed while Indrid cuddles up to him, head more or less in his lap. The ranger summons Bill Bryson book and begins reading, petting Indrid’s hair gently as he does. As much as he loves their scenes, this is in some ways his favorite part; he loves looking after Indrid, loves being the person he trusts to keep him safe when he’s vulnerable.

Two chapters in, Indrid whines little, rubbing his face into Ducks thigh. 

“What’s up, sugar?”

“I am very sore.”

“Got just the thing. Can you sit up for me?”

Indrid does, resting his head on Duck’s shoulder. 

“You are very comfy. And wonderful.”

“Glad you think so.” Duck grabs the muscle rub, massaging it into Indrid’s shoulders first.

“You are the best thing that has ever happened to me, Duck Newton.” Indrid says it so softly Duck wonders if he meant to say it aloud. But no, the demon is looking at him, eyes overflowing with something Duck, on his most confident days, might call love. 

He’s not ready to admit that. Not quite yet.

“Damn, didn’t know the sex was that good.” 

A flicker of disappointment in the bond. Then Indrid grins, kisses his cheek, “It was exquisite.”

“Not as exquisite as you.” Duck kisses him, tries to pour all the things he’s not able to say into the motion. Indrid hums, and when he pulls back his smile is even brighter. 

“May this exquisite demon spend the evening lunging in the arms of his exquisite lover?”

Duck pulls him into a hug, smiling when the demon nuzzles his neck, “you know it.”  
\------------------------------------------  
Ned is just finishing locking and arming the front doors when Billy tps him on the shoulder. The young man (Ned has always struggled to call him a demon, given his overall demeanor) shifts from foot to foot, glancing around the room. 

“What’s troubling you, dear boy?"

The letters come up small, s if Billy isn't sure who’s watching. 

“We need to call meeting with the guard tomorrow. It’s urgent. I think I know why so many bonded pairs are in town.”


	13. Breaking

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Billy explains. Indrid dreams. Barclay learns a secret.

In the inner sanctum of the Cryptonomica, the Pine Guard sits around Ned’s large, cherry-wood desk as Billy draws his explanation through the air. 

“I asked Balthazar, and he said the same thing had come to him. Demons who get bonded to humans, or…” he looks at Indrid, sheepishly, “the ones who don’t get bonded because of a backrub-”

“Who blabbed?” Duck glares at the others. 

“Oh, I must have mentioned it when Billy and I had lunch last week.” Indrid adds, not looking up from where he’s furiously trying to make futures appear on paper.

“Go on, dear boy.” Ned gestures for the other demon to continue. 

“We have a communication network, for commiserating and trading advice. We had a Subreddit too, but it got taken down. Every mid-level demon and up who’s been bonded to a spellcaster received a message that if we come to, or stay in, Kepler, we’ll be freed.”

“Not possible.” Thacker shakes his head, “no has ever, and I mean ever found a way to break a soul bond. Other than, uh, than death, I guess.”

“You know where the message came from?” Mama leans back in her chair.

Billy shakes his head, “Just a voice in a dream.”

“That don’t explain why the pairs came though. Spellcaster wouldn’t come if the bond was gonna be broken, and not all demons are good enough at deception to convince them to come for another reason.”

The demon shrugs, yellow eyes look crestfallen.

Duck rests his hand on his arm, continues, “That don’t mean this ain’t all real helpful. Gives us some clue when we had fuck-all.”

Mama gives Ned an inquisitive look, “don’t suppose you feel like doin some snoopin to find out if the spellcasters been gettin the same thing?”

“It would be my pleasure.”

“Aubrey, Thacker, you feel like stakin out some psychic wavelengths tonight, see’in what you can pick up?”

“Hell yeah, allnighter” Aubrey holds up a hand, and Thacker high-fives her with a chuckle. 

“Duck, Indrid, I need you two to keep an eye on the Hornets. I don’t think they’re behind this, but they and a few more folks in town are still real on edge after the attacks, and I don’t want ‘em goin’ after anyone they shouldn’t. 

“Or puttin themselves in danger.” Duck dds, “they run up against a feral vamp or two, or anythin else big, and they're gonna be in big fuckin trouble.”

“Chosen Squad will keep an eye out too. And Duck, for fucks sake, steer clear of Hayes and Reconciliation if you can. We can’t lose Indrid. And neither can you.”

As they’re walking into the house later that night, Indrid turns and regards him, eyes glowing brightly in the darkness. 

“What do you suppose Mama meant by that last comment?”

“That you’re real handy to have around?”

“You know that is not the part I was referring to, Duck Newton.” Indrid’s horns and tail appear just as the lights turn on. He’s doing nothing more than standing there, in the warm light of home, sweater around his shoulders and head tilted to one side. But suddenly Duck cannot imagine the house without him. 

There was a time he gladly threw him out. The idea is unconscionable to him now. He may as well cut off a finger and chuck it out the door. 

He may as well rip his heart out and hurl it into the cold October air. 

Duck steps forward, slips a strand of silver hair back behind a pointed ear, “That I’m attached to you, goofus. Literally.” He tilts his wrist, indicating the blue mark.

“Only that?” Apprehension in the bond, even as the demon's face is neutral. 

Duck keeps a hand on his cheek, reaches forward with the other to find chilly fingers, “No. And I think you already know that.”

“Yes but” Indrid’s gaze flicks to the floor, “I would very much like to hear you say it.”

“Indrid, I ain’t keepin you around just because of the soul bond. I know you could live somewhere else in Kepler, that we could be outta each others lives in a lot of ways. But that ain’t what I want. I want you here, I wanna kiss you goodnight and see your face in the mornin. I…”

Affection mixed with hope, deep and shimmering bright in the bond.

“I don’t know what I’d do if Hayes or whoever got it into their heads to separate us.”

The feeling dims with resignation, Indrid’s lip twitching down for an instant. Then he smirks, fondly.

“Argue with them, I assume.”

“Well, yeah, but I’d sooner let ‘em toss me in a cell next to you than wander around out here while you were locked up somewhere. Feel freer with you than I felt in a long, long time. What good’s bein out in the world if I don’t got you by my side?”

Instead of answering the rhetorical question s he usually does, Indrid nudges him backwards two steps, Ducks back bumping into the wall, before leaning in to kiss him. Duck laughs softly against his mouth, savors the way Indrid’s tongue flicks out to tease his lips as the demon hums happily.

“Anglin for a taste of my soul?” Duck murmurs playfully, the way he’s taken to doing whenever Indrid nips or kisses him for more than a moment.

Indrid gently bites his lower lip, “always.” His hips are moving now too, slow and subtle against Duck’s own. 

“Anglin for somethin else too?”

“Yes.” Indrid purrs, tail curling around to press the front of Duck’s pants.

“Your room or mine?”

“Wherever is closest.”

“In that case” Duck grips his chin, grinning, “get over the counter.”  
\-------------------------------------------  
Indrid is considering asking Duck to have sex with him for so long, or so roughly, that he passes out and his mind is blank. Because these dreams are getting old, and perhaps his exhausted, sex drunk mind would be so inhospitable to them that he could sleep in peace. 

On the bright side, a term he uses generously, he’s confirmed Billy’s story of voice reaching out to demons in their dreams. Except it’s coming to him in the form of that accursed Pomeranian, and it's not trying to convince him to stay in Kepler. 

Currently, it’s sitting on his chest, and in the dream he cannot run, can't even get it off of him. The dog looks at him, “Dangerous monster, bringer of doom. He will be glad to be rid of you. Do not resist that truth when the time comes. Do not cling to him.”

He gets a future then, he’s certain of it, a flash of pure panic as something tears Duck away from him. Awakens with a gasp, claws clutching the comforter. 

Duck is there. Still there, asleep, rolling towards Indrid with a sigh. Maybe he had the right idea all those months ago; steal Duck’s soul away with him, find some shadowy place to hide to keep them both safe until the planes collapse and the worlds end.

Slowly, he lays down with his back to the human, and after a moment a strong arm drapes over him as Duck cuddles closer. Indrid inhales the scent of soul and soap, relaxes into the embrace, focuses on the calm, fond feelings in the bond and, by some miracle, falls asleep.

The respite only lasts until dawn, as it’s the day before Halloween and there’s that blasted Reconciliation meeting event to avoid. Their observation of the Hornets (with Indrid most often masquerading as a Blackbird or Magpie on Duck’s shoulder) has yielded very little information other than the Hornets seem to distrust Reconciliation and the FBI as much as they distrust the Pine Guard. Ned’s search has only confirmed that one or two newly arrived spellcasters came to town because they had prophetic dreams that doing so would yield great power. 

In all, they have no leads on the feral vampires or the strange messenger, and all Indrid can think about is the warning from his dream. When he asks if he can accompany Duck to work, the human flashes him a perplexed look before agreeing eagerly. A day of being constantly by Duck’s side, in his usual form or a disguise, does wonders for his nerves. As does Duck holding his hand while they're out in the deep woods doing specimen checks. Maybe he wasn't seeing a future at all, and the strange dream messenger was simply trying to torment him due to some long-standing grudge.

The phone rings just as they arrive home, and s Duck picks it up Indrid sees he was right to be worried. He steps beside the ranger, listening to Agent Stern's hushed voice

“Duck, listen, I don’t have much time. Hayes found out about Indrid, and he’s on his way”

“How-”

“I’m not sure, there’s been some, some kind-” creaking on the other end of the line, and the agent goes even quieter, “something’s gone wrong, someone isn’t who they seem. I have to go, but for fucks sake be careful.”

He hangs up and the two of them stare at each other.

“Seems like we might wanna get outta town for a few days.”

Indrid sees the timeline change, hangs his head, “If we leave now, we have a chance. But if we leave now, I cannot warn Aubrey of something dire. And if I do..I am caught.”

“Your call.”

He holds out his hand, and Duck places the phone into it.

“Hello?”

“Aubrey, take whoever you can and go to your parents. You have to protect them and, if you can, wake them up.”

“Indrid, you know that’s not-”

“Possible. I might just be, but more than that you must stay and protect them. No matter what happens to the rest of us.”

“I...okay, okay if you say so. Are you and Duck coming to help?”

A car door slams outside.

“I wish we could. But I am about to be arrested.”

“ _What_? Fuck, okay, I’ll tell Mama, I can’t seem to find her but-”

“ Do not trouble yourself with that, you have five minutes to get to your parents. Good luck, Aubrey Little.”

He hangs up just as there’s a knock on the door. Duck keeps it closed as he calls, “who is it?”

“Special Agent Hayes. Open the door, Mr. Newton, we know the cat-10 belongs to you.”

Duck opens the door, “first off, Indrid don’t belong to anyone. Second, he ain’t done any of the shit you think he has.”

Hayes steps inside, “You expect me to believe he’s been here for months and done nothing more than, what? Take in local color? Sleep on your couch? 

“I sleep in the bed.” Indrid steps beside his human, resting a hand on his arm, “And I, like everyone else in town, can tell you that Duck Newton is incapable of lying. So whatever he tells you about my actions is an accurate account.”

“Handy story, but until I confirm it, you’re coming with me. If you resist, well” Hayes indicates the three other cars, all of which are equipped with the kind of power dampeners that could seriously hurt him. 

“Understood.”

“Mr. Newton, given that you were never seen at the incidents, and in fact witnesses confirm you were elsewhere for several of them-”

“So was ‘Drid!”

Hayes glares at him, “I’m trying to tell you that _you_ are not being arrested.”

“Maybe not, but I’m comin all the same. I ain’t leavin ‘Drid to sit in jail all by himself.”

“Suit yourself. Cuff both of them.”

Indrid is about to point out that was not what Duck meant, but decides against it, let’s them put dampener cuffs round his wrists and shove him into one car while they put Duck in another. He focuses on the bond, on trying to send calm through it, feel Duck’s own reassurance cloaking him protectively. 

When they turn left instead of right, their confusion is mutual. And when they arrive at the headquarters of Reconciliation, Indrid understands. He does what he can to signal to Duck through the bond, as the agents keep them as far apart as possible on the walk into the building. 

“Wait, what the hell are they doing here?” Hollis, mid-argument with a Reconciliation representative, “you said you knew who’d killed our friends. I know it wasn’t these two.”

“Astute.” The representative grins, “just as your desire to protect your friends and your town from monsters is admirable. It is also, however, an inconvenience, as you failed to act as we needed you to.”

“What the fuck, we don’t work for y-” Hollis goes still, then falls to the floor with a thud. Two of the representatives step to the side s Mr. Cotton steps through, accompanied by Mr. Walker, head of Reconciliation. 

“A shame” Walker shakes his head, “what good is a posse that can't catch one vampire?” He notices Duck and Indrid, smiles condescendingly, “ah, good, we couldn’t risk you two running off tonight. At least these puppets did as we asked.”

“That's why we actually possessed them, instead of leaving it to chance.” Cotton snaps his fingers and all the agents go still, faces blank. He casts a disapproving look at Duck, “why do we need him? The demon is where all the power comes from.”

Indrid hisses, insulted on Duck’s behalf and his own; his demonic self does not choose weak adversaries, thank you very much.

“I’m right here y’know.” Duck says flatly, “and better a weak warlock than some hopped-up, self-righteous dipshit who’ll throw in with people who think magic is useless at worst and dangerous at best.”

Walker tuts, stepping over Hollis, “Mr. Newton, you could not be more wrong.”  
\-------------------------------  
Barclay groans, cold stone on his back and colder air on his face. What the fuck, the last thing he remembers is, is…

_“Barclay, thank god.” Stern finds him in their usul spot, grips his forearms as they stand face to face, “it’s Hayes, I think he knows about you.”_

_“Shit, okay, don’t panic. Not the first time someone figured out I was a vamp. I may have to leave town, at least for a bit.”_

_Blue eyes widen, and Barclays heart aches._

_“Hey, it’s okay special agent. It won’t be forever. If you wanna see me again, I swear I’ll find you.”_

_“Darling, I’d prefer you never leave my side.”_

_He has just enough time to think that Joseph only ever calls him “big guy” before the world snuffs out._

The agent is standing by his side when he turns his head, allowing him to see the man nd the chins on his wrist in the same instant. They're in some kind of mausoleum.

“Joseph, what-”

The agent dissolves and in his place stands Isabelle Wood.

“-the fuck did you do with Joseph?” He growls, already pulling at the chains.

“You mean that little spellcaster who had the gall to try and warn a key part of our plan? He is in there.” She points to a coffin.

“NO!”

“Do not worry, he is not dead. Just unconscious. We have just the place to bury him, once those two sorceresses are disinterred. Given the trouble we had locating them, he will not be found for a long, long time.”

“Please, please, I will do anything you want, fuck, put me in the ground in his place if you have to, but for fucks sake let him go.”

“No. You are already going to do what we need of you. This is his punishment for meddling.” She’s grinning now.

“You’re a monster.” He snarls.

“No, _you_ are a monster. I tore out four throats trying to get others to see that, or to come to the same conclusion about that witch's wife. It would have been simpler, and less risky, to have that motorcycle gang apprehend one of you and then collect what we need that way.” She taps her fingers on the coffin, then knocks, then frowns, “he is still asleep. I like it better when they are awake for the process.”

“I’ll show you a monster.” If he could only get an arm free. 

Isabella looks at her watch, “it is almost time. Which means we need to get a move on.” She removes a knife from her sleeve, “you see, Cotton and I, long with Mr. Walker, found that there was one ingredient missing from previous attempts to break soul bonds.” She stands next to him, the blade less terrifying than the expression on her face.

“It turns out all you need is a little vampire blood.”  
\------------------------------------------------   
“It turns out the anger and fear of humans, combined with a few secret ingredients and a powerful spellcaster, can in fact render the soul bond void."

“So, what?” Duck scowls at Cotton any time he gets too close to Indrid. Which, in Duck’s view, is being in the same room as the demon, “you break a bunch of bonds and then what? Hope the demons start dukin out with their humans so you can rob a bank or some shit?”

“Hardly” Walker peers out the window, “we do indeed want Kepler to be rid of planar beings and magic. We think they are a horrible threat. But to do that, we must close the links between worlds.”

“By using magic.” Indrid arches his eyebrow. 

“The ends justify the means.”

“And” Cotton adds, “Isabelle and I have long thought the mingling of our planes an abomination. We entered into our own bond to find a way of stopping the intermingling and closing the gates. When we found Reconciliation, we knew we found the allies we needed.”

“You are going to bind all of the demons to you while Isabelle subdues the spellcasters.” Indrid looks at Cotton with mounting horror. 

“Precisely. Unfortunately, there will be some...collateral.”

“We’re going to wipe Kepler off the map thanks to the force of the spell.” Walker says, blithely. 

“I won’t let you!” Indrid speaks long with Duck, only for a painfully radiant sword to appear in Cottons hand and rest on Indrid’s throat. 

“You will do exactly as we say, or I kill him and both of you die. I neither know nor care how you feel about each other, but most beings prefer to live. So, Newton, if he resists I suggest compelling him. After all, his arrival here was a sign our plan was destined to work; once he;s bound to me, the spell has no chance of failure.”

Duck could strangle him for talking about Indrid like a possession, but he doesn’t get the chance. The air crackles with painful white and yellow power, and the mesmerized agents haul them to their feet. 

“It seems Isabelle acquired the final ingredient. Come long gentlemen; it is time to make a new, better world.


	14. Bound

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Aubrey goes home. Duck resists. Indrid reaches out.

As soon as she hangs up the phone, Aubrey is running for the door, Dani joining her the instant she sees the distress on her wife's face. Thacker passes them at the Lodge doors, arms full of books. 

“Get the sense y’all need some help.”

“Yep, as much as we can get!” 

The man sets his books down, and sprints as best he can after them. They make it to her parents with a minute to spare.

“You wanna do the honors kiddo?”

Aubrey nods, and the ground parts, revealing steps down to the chamber where the Quell and Sylvain are asleep.

“Okaaay. Here’s what I'm thinking. I’m going to cast a protection spell over the entrance. Thacker, I might need you to boost my energy if I have to be in the trance for too long.”

“Wait, trance?”

“Yeah. Indrid said I needed to try to get them to wake up. So that’s...that's what I’m going to try.”

“Fireblossom, you’ve tried that before and it was really, really taxing and dangerous.”

“I know. But this sounds like the do or die kind of time to try it. Don’t worry, honeysuckle,” she leans in, kissing her once, “I’ll come back, I have to. I’ve got the best woman in the world waiting for me.”

With that, she descends into the subterranean chamber, red and orange glow spreading across her skin as she comes to the two crystals, each with the figure of a woman visible within them.

“The protection barrier holding?” She calls.

“Perfectly!” Thacker calls back, and she can just see a thumbs up held down the first step. 

She settles in front of the crystals, crosses her legs, and closes her eyes. Reaches out, tapping into the magic as she was taught, asking it for help the way she always has.

“I’d like to talk to my moms, please.”

Her body goes still, her breathing slows, and in her minds eye she walks forward across sparkling darkness until she finds a door. Beyond it, she knows she’ll find her moms asleep in bed, side by side, only willing to wake up for something she has yet to figure out. 

Except. 

Except this time, she opens the door to the house. The one what was once theirs is and now hers. And in the living room, in their favorite chairs are Irene and Sylvia Little.

“Hello, firebug.” Sylvia looks at her, tears in her eyes, “it seems like you have something to tell us.”  
\-------------------------------------------------  
Cotton’s power dampening spell is like nothing Duck has ever has the displeasure of feeling. He feels tired from his mind and body instinctively reaching for magic that isn’t there. Any hope of solving their problems through non-magical means is snuffed by the blade the warlock keeps pressed to Indrid’s back as they walk. 

Yet even with the dulling of everything except for, it seems, his anger and fear, he still senses the bond. Indrid sends the same sensation, the same message over and over.

_I’m here. I’m here. I’m here_

Duck unhelpfully thinks of the radio operator on the Titanic sending out S.O.S over and over as the water swallowed the ship. 

_Now is not the time for defeatism. Stay with me_

The feeling is remarkably clear, and Duck smiles a little as he pictures the way Indrid would look if saying it aloud, focuses on sending a message back. 

_I’m stayin’_

When he shifts his attention back onto their march towards the town square, he sees Isabelle Wood is now beside Cotton. 

“I take it your errand was successful?”

“Obviously.” She glares at him while gesturing to the new magic in the air and the throng of frozen Keplerites in the nearby plaza. Their fear and anger winds up into the sky, gathering with a red and yellow mist. Only the members of Reconciliation remain untouched.

Cotton pushes people carelessly aside as he strides to the center stage, where one of his acolytes yields the podium from which they spoke. Duck recognizes him as the man who tried to sway Stern over to Reconciliation months ago. 

White, yellow, and pale green light spins through the air, Cotton speaking an incantation half in Latin and half in demonic-speech. When the spell finishes, Isabelle’s eyes begin to glow white, and swirls or magic spin towards Cotton from all directions; energy from the bonded demons in town, no doubt reeling from the promised freedom turning to instant betrayal.   
His bond with Indrid is fraying, the mark on his arm fading, and he grasps at it, as if he can keep the demon tethered by stubbornness alone. On the other side he feels Indrid doing the same, straining for Duck.

_Don’t leave, don’t leave, don’tleavedon’tleavedont-_

He doesn’t even know which one of them the refrain is coming from. White light encircles his legs, binds his fingers closed as Isabelle smirks. 

Indrid’s face contorts with pain, red and black magic torn from under his nails by Cotton. Duck keeps his eyes on him, wills him to look. The demon does, a horrible mixture of fear and understanding in his eyes. The feeling in the bond isn’t meant for Duck, but for Cotton.

_You can't make me. I-_

And then the bond snaps.  
\-----------------------  
“When we performed this spell to hide us from our enemies, we never suspected something like Reconciliation would arise. Our adversaries were always looking to expand magic, not narrow it.” Irene shakes her head

“That’s why you two did this?”

“I had a vision” Sylvi takes her daughter's hand, “that our enemies would increasingly seek to harm you in their pursuit of us. We left you with Madeline and put ourselves into this sleep in hopes you would be safe and well until those enemies were gone. And one by one, they did destroy themselves, as the power-hungry always do.”

“Then why didn’t you come back?”

The two trade a look, and Irene sighs, “because it takes more power to undo the spell thn to do it, something we had no way of knowing, since no one before us had tried such a thing. And we've never had enough. As embarrassing as it is to admit, we are stuck here.”  
\----------------------------  
“Can you tell if it’s working?” Dani worries the end of a lock of her hair.

“She ain’t come out of it, which I think is good overall.” Thacker smiles from his spot at the top of the stairs.

There’s a crunching through dry leaves, and then four members of Reconciliation saunter into the clearing. 

“Knew the witch would lead us to it eventually.”

“Y’all ought to watch your tone.” Thacker sounds like a deeply disappointed grandpa as he scolds the quartet, “Aubrey’s done more to protect this town than your small-minded club could ever dream of doin’.”

They scoff, began kicking at the protective field as if it were a tire. 

Thacker waves Dani closer, whispers, “Now, don’t panic, but Aubreys goin pale. I’m gonna have to give ‘er a boost, magically speakin, but that means if they break the barrier, we might be in trouble.” 

Dani glances down into the chamber, sees the faint glow of her wife’s magic beginning to flicker. 

“I’ll handle it. Do your stuff.”

Thacker pats her shoulder, crosses his legs and evens out his breathing. 

The quartet has something that looks like a dowsing rod, and where they poke the barrier spell it bends and they trade smug looks. It’s rage-making, the way they’re always prodding and poking at Amnesty, at Aubrey, the way they try to bully the town into submission. Keeping everyone on the defensive. 

Maybe it’s time to play offense instead. 

She stands, stepping out of the ring of the spell, smiling when they all instinctively step back.

“That was stupid, young lady. We know you’re no witch.”

“I may not be magical. And I’m not feral” Dani’s eyes begin to glow, her fangs elongate “but I’m really, really pissed.”   
\-------------------------------------   
Blood still drips from Barclays palm as the men Isabelle left behind argue over how to dispose of him. One is in favor of the more classic options: staking him through the heart or cutting off his head. The other is advocating letting him bleed out slowly, or burying him alive near Joseph. 

“Look, we should decide soon, Ms. Wood will be angry if this trash isn’t dealt with by the time she returns.” 

There’s a clatter as a nearby statue falls over, and the two men turn in response to the noise. Which means they don’t see the lid of the casket open until it’s too late, one getting half a word out before a two-by-four connects with his skull. The other is paralyzed just long enough for Stern to swing the weapon a second time.

“‘M so sorry” Barclay murmurs as the agent rifles through the two mens pockets, finding the key to his chins, “this is my fault, they hurt you because of me.”

“They hurt me--come on you damn thing, turn, there we go--because they're a bunch of self-righteous sadists. I’m sorry I didn’t come-to sooner, so I could keep them from hurting you.”

“I’ve had worse.”

“That's not actually reassuring.” Stern helps him sit up, cupping his cheek, “Can you walk? We should get you to the Lodge so I can clean-up your hand.”

“Lemme try-nope, hold on, give me a sec.” He’s so dizzy, the cut in his hand had been laced with magic so he would bleed as much as they needed him to.

Stern sits down next to him, baring his neck.

“How about a pick-me-up?”

Barclay remembers the last time, feeling like he could lift a car just from a taste of Sterns blood. The way the human wanted him, trusted him to take something so precious.

“Only if you let me buy you dinner afterwards this time.” He does his best to smile through the haze in his brain.

“Assuming we’re still alive tomorrow, you’ve got a deal.”

Before he can bite, there's a scuff of dirt. Another member of Reconciliation stands in the door of the crypt they're in, eyeing the scene with anger. He's still not ready to fight, and he's guessing Joseph burned through what little power he has on those small spells to distract and disarm their captors. 

There's a _thunk_ and the man falls down, out cold. 

"Not gonna lie, that felt good." Mama appears, slinging her shotgun back over her shoulder, "now, c'mon lovebirds, you two got some explainin' to do before the end of the world."  
\-------------------------------------------  
 _Leave him, leave him._

The command comes through the second bond relentlessly, even as the wisps of his bond with Duck cling to him. It’s hard to think like this, his head full of splitting pain as magic violently unraveled from his chest.

_He wants nothing to do with you._

Indrid still sees him, fighting against the enchantment Isabelle is using to restrain any spellcasters. As the bond with Cotton takes hold of him, he senses the other demons, gets flickers of their emotions, and while some fight as he does, most go willingly, no doubt either lured by the promise of power or aware they stand no chance of successful resistance. But one, marked by grey-blue energy pulled from the east side of town, is struggling almost as hard as Indrid is. 

Even as he continues to siphon their power, Cotton raises his hands and glowing rifts form in the sky and the ground. 

There’s a crack of deep green energy and Cotton falters a moment, whirls to glare at Duck, who managed to get a spell off even with the restraints.

Indrid laughs, delighted and defiant. 

Cotton turns his eyes to him instead.

_Destroy him_

Horrified, he feels his power redirecting, his rm lifting to cast a spell. He fights it with everything he has, searches for the remains of his bond with Duck to help him. 

_You were always going to. You’ve never been more than a creature of destruction, of raw power. That was what he wanted with you._

Just like that, Cotton’s voice dims, drowned out by something calling _come back, come back, my Indrid, come back_

Indrid grins at Cotton, “You have no idea how wrong you are.”

In the air between him and Duck, black light twines around deep green, and he drops to his knees with a gasp, the mark on his arm as fresh as the day it was made. Duck looks at his own mark, then back at the demon.

He smiles and in the bond is an overwhelming echo of two voices. 

_I’m here_

They don’t even need to speak. Isabelle simply goes flying sideways into a wall, her hold on the other spellcasters disappearing. Most run as soon as they’re free, but a few stay and turn their power on Cotton. 

Isabelle tries to retaliate, only to find her hands bond in black and green. 

“Ezra, for goodness sake, help me!”

Cotton simply shrugs and banishes her back to the Above. 

“Jesus.” Duck mutters, “some folks got no respect for demons.”

“You turned me into a frog once”

Duck chuckles, face coated in relief, “Got me there. And I got some things I need to tell you, once we deal with this fuckin mess.” He turns, cups his hands round his mouth and hollers at Cotton, “Hey! Dipshit! Your spell didn’t fuckin work and your minion is missin!”

“It doesn’t matter, even with your strange bond in place, you aren’t powerful enough to stop me.”

“That may be, but I’m hard-headed enough to try. Ready, sugar?”

“Very.”

The first spell takes Cotton by surprise. He must have thought they’d be frightened and back awy. But he’s ready for the second, and the third, and it’s not long before Indrid understands the crux of the problem. 

“We are too evenly matched; with all the power from the other demons, he’s able to repel our attacks.”

“Damn it, wish one less pair had the good sense to not come to Keper.”

“Or one was more willing to resist. Look!” Indrid points to the same strand of magic he saw before, the one that’s fought Cotton the whole time. 

“Am I crazy, or is that-”

“Yes, it’s Billy.” Indrid beams at him, “and he might just tip the scales. Wait for my signal, I am going to focus my future sight, or what is left of it, on him.”

Duck nods, and Indrid shuts his eyes as the warlock keeps a protective spell around him. The futures show glimpses of the Cryptonomica, of Boyd and Ned trying to help Billy, the demon curled up on his bed, shaking.

“Come on lad, just hold out a little longer.”

“I promise, dear boy, under no circumstances will we let you get stuck with yet another wretched warlock.”

Indrid opens his eyes.

“Now!”

They throw the spell just s the energy from Billy flickers out for two-count. By the time it’s back it bounces off the dampener layer, Cotton yelling indignantly as the other bonds try to break. 

“He’s lookin a little, uh, frazzled?”

“Indeed. Oh, oh dear” Indrid raises his voice, “Ezra Cotton, if you value your life, you will not try what you are thinking of trying.”

“Quiet, you useless traitor, or face my wrath!”

And then Cotton crumples in a heap, dead. 

Indrid sighs, shaking his head, “even an amateur spellcaster knows that channeling too much power while in a dampener will stop your heart.”

“Wait, why ain’t the other demons dead?”

“I suspect when they made this spell, they designed it so killing one would not kill the other, tht wy the bonded demons could be expendable without putting Cotton at risk.”

Duck looks at the dead man as if he were a squished roach.

“Yes, I feel the same. I also have some bad news. You and I do not have enough power to shut those.” He gestures to the two rifts, “Which means we could still lose Kepler.”

“We still gotta try. You know that, right?”

“I would not have it any other way.”

They take up positions back to back, Duck trying to stabilize the rift to the Above while Indrid does the same for the Below. After a minute of absolutely no progress, Indrid looks over his shoulder.

“It is not going to work, my sweet.”

“I aint givin up just yet. But, uh, Indrid?”

“Yes?”

“If, if this is the end, I want you to know somethin. I” he takes a deep breath, “I love you.”

Indrid smiles, turns the human so they’re face to ace, “I love you too.”

He leans in to kiss him for the last time, just as the world is swallowed up by red and orange light.  
\------------------------------------------------------------  
Duck’s sense of smell comes back online first, which is how he knows he’s in a hospital, the air sterile and chemical. 

“Indrid, buddy, you gotta sleep too, how about I help you-”

“Barclay, if you try to move me from his side, I will bite you.”

“You’re gonna fall off and hit your head on the floor, that bed is not big enough for two people.”

That explains the familiar weight on top of his feet. 

“S’okay, ‘Drid, I’m awake.”

There’s a trill, followed by a flurry of kisses on his face, and then the unmistakable sound of a cameraphone shutter going off.

“That one’s going on the wall.”

“Aubrey? Oh shit, thank fuck you’re okay!” Duck sits up, then freezes, “and you got...parents again?”

“Hello, Duck.” Sylvia smiles at him. Irene just waves

“Yep! Who saved Kepler from being blown to bits and your butts to boot.”

“Uh, fuck, thanks a whole fuckin lot for that. But how’d you wake up in time?”

“It turns out our daughter is a determined and skilled sorceress. Just as we knew she would be.” Irene squeezes Aubrey’s hand. 

“And while what she says is technically true, we owe you tanks as well. Stopping Ezra Cotton’s multi-demon bond gave us a chance to stabilize the rifts. Not to mention you, Indrid, warned Aubrey and allowed her to protect us from Reconciliation.” Sylvia steps to the bed, setting an edible arrangement on the table. 

“Why were they so obsessed with you in the first place?”

“According to Walker’s files--he’s in custody by the way, in part for his own protection because there are a lot of angry planar beings after him--they knew the two Mrs. Littles were the only spellcasters who could possibly stop a planar collapse, They wanted them dead to be certain there was no chance of failure.” Stern looks up from his seat in the corner, “and, in case it’s not obvious, Hayes no longer thinks Indrid is a risk, and the Hornets re no longer convinced there's a feral vampire. They’re lobbying the city to tear down Reconciliations min building to make a new skatepark. Well” he stands, smiling a little awkwardly, “I was hanging around to update you, but now I should go so the nurses don’t scold us for overcrowding the room.”

“Of course. The fact Barclay keeps licking his fangs is immaterial?” Indrid smirks when the agent blushes. 

“Watch it, demon, or I’ll cut off your caramel syrup privileges at the Lodge.”

“I retract my statement.” They wave as the men leave, Duck adjusting to a more comfortable position in bed.

“Everyone else, Dani, Billy, all of them, they’re all okay?'

“Varying degrees of banged up, but yes. Billy was here in the room net door, for the same reason you are; he burned through so much power trying to fight, he got dangerously exhausted.”

“Poor kid. I’m gonna owe him so many rounds of video games after this.”

Aubrey snickers s her moms trade confused look. 

“Well, we ought to let you rest some more, and allow Indrid to finish climbing into your arms.”

The demon doesn’t look the lest bit ashamed at this observation. 

“Wait, sorry, uh, I got one more question, since you two are kinda the grand dames of magic and all. Uh, do you know why Indrid could remake the bond? It should been permanently broken.”

“He fixed it because it was still there, hanging by thin threads.” Irene smiles, a rare expression, “Cotton and the others had a flaw in their spell, though I doubt they even noticed it, given how they saw the world. Their spell broke soul bonds based on business or trickery very easily. But a bond originally formed out of love? They never stood a chance.”


	15. Body and Soul

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Stern gets a new job. Indrid gets an explanation. Duck gives a present.

In the months that follow Reconciliations downfall, the town of Kepler, West Virginia, goes through some changes. 

The Lodge remains a neutral zone, but residents of town who previously gave it wide berth begin visiting more often. The Hornets help repair some of the damage from the massive storm-earthquake caused by the collapsing planes, and in exchange Mama helps them fix up their beloved Hornets Nest, complete with a new carving in memory of their fallen friends.   
Hayes, after apologizing to Indrid, offers Stern a promotion which the agent promptly turns down, claiming he has a better offer. Said offer turns out to be from Vincent, who’s heading an attempt to foster more collaborative, inter-planar relations.

 _“We would have called it The Department of Reconciliation, but obviously that was off the table.”_

Which is how, as fall gives way to winter and winter melts into spring, it becomes common to see residents of the Above and Below mingling with humans, chatting in restaurants or playing pick up soccer in the park. Human residents of Kepler begin traveling between planes more regularly, and Duck and Juno find themselves training a crop of inhuman rangers to run the “national parks” in both planes.

The vampires of Kepler are more hesitant to reveal themselves for obvious, mob-mentality related reasons. Dani and Barclay reveal themselves first, as having the protection of three powerful sorceresses and one very tough woman with a shotgun means they face less danger than others might. Little by little, the humans lower their suspicions and the vampires lower their guard. 

Which is why, come the summer, when Barclay proposes to Stern in the traditional vampire fashion (neither he nor Stern will elaborate on what, exactly, that entailed, but they both turn bright red when asked), over half the town sends them congratulation cards.

It’s now late September, and Duck and Indrid have taken a trip away from the changing foliage of the Monongahela, one city over to celebrate a very special anniversary. Dinner was about as fancy as Duck could handle, and the sight of Indrid in his black suit across the table meant his mind was on his meal only forty percent of the time. 

Indrid is attempting to take his focus on other things down to zero, which would be fine were Duck not behind the wheel of the car. The demon squeezes his thigh, leans across the space between them to kiss his cheek and bite his ear. 

They’re halfway home, have turned onto a rural highway when the demon purrs, “If you pull over just ahead, under the stand of pines, we will have darkness, privacy, and time for me to blow you so well you black-out. 

Duck doesn’t say a word, pulls the car over into the suggested spot with a smile. Indrid begins bouncing in his seat, clearly thinking he’s about to get his way. 

When Duck gets out of the car, Indrid chirps, intrigued, as the human walks to his side of the car. A side benefit of Indrid getting horny is that he tends to get present-minded, making it easier to surprise him. 

Duck opens the demon’s door, holding out his hand. Indrid takes it, stepping out while musing, “I certainly will not object to doing it in the open airAH!” There's a metallic thud as Duck spins the demon and shoves him face-down across the hood.

“Ohhhh, I see” his tail and horns appear, “quick and wild over the car. Very pornographic, I approve.”

Duck brings his hand down hard on the right side of Indrid’s ass. Keeps going as he speaks.

“Where” _slap_ “do you” _slap_ “ get off” _slap_ , “thinkin you get to give a single” _slap_ “goddamn” _slap_ “order tonight?”

“It, it was a suggestion, not an order.” Indrid grins over his shoulder “and it is not a crime to be turned on by my handsome human.” 

Duck growls, boxes Indrid against the car, slamming his hands down on either side of his head and grinding against his ass.

“You feel that, darlin?”

“Yes, but I could be feeling it moreAHnn” his pleased laugh at the hair pull turns to a whine as Duck continues talking, slapping his left thigh whenever he feels like it. 

“If I gotta be patient and deal with bein this hard on the way home, you can be patient too.”

Indrid whines louder, rolls his hips. 

Duck tugs his hair again, sneering against his ear, “I know, you’re such a needy little demon, it’s real hard for you to wait when all you wanna do is get fucked. But If you don’t behave, I’m gonna leave you here, and you can try and find some other human’s cock to suck.”

“No!” Indrid scratches at the paint, “no, no one else, I only want you, please, _please_ , I will be good, I want you be your demon, only yours, only-”

“Hush.” Duck guides him upright by his hair, before letting go of the silver strands to stroke his cheek, “you oughta know I’d never leave you for someone else to use. You’re my demon, nobody else's”

“Yesss” Indrid melts backwards.

“My Indrid.”

“Forever.” 

Duck kisses his neck, “then get your cute little ass in the car so we can go home.”

Indrid darts back into the car as soon as Duck speaks, slamming his door and hurriedly buckling his seatbelt as Duck walks back to the other side. As soon as he's in and the door is shut, he’s pressed up against it, Indrid kissing him happily and chirping “wonderful, so wonderful.”

In the darkened car, his soul bond glows for a moment. 

They learned, after much discussion with Irene and Sylvia (with Thacker chiming in at times) that "my Indrid" were the two words that sealed their fate a year ago. 

_“I would hardly call what Duck and I had at the time love. Affection perhaps, even friendship, but not love.”_

_“But you wanted him to love you, even if you could not name it at the time. You wanted to be your best self for him, and he wanted the same. And you wanted each other so deeply in that moment, that when Duck spoke your name and called you his, it was enough to form the bond.”_

By the time they reach the house, Duck is being hit with wave after wave of desire and excitement, his own and Ingrid's mixing together as they kick off shoes and stop to pet Ebony long enough so she won’t steal Duck’s headphones in revenge. 

Indrid comes in for a kiss, grinning when his lips travel down Duck’s neck, “Do I get my gift? I have been very good all night.”

“Have you now?” Duck grins, all menace and desire, and Indrid’s eyes widen as the human begins backing him into the bedroom.

“Yes. Yes I have.” Indrid starts taking off his clothes a moment before Duck orders him to. 

“What do you call all that pawin me in the car?”

“Enthusiasm.” Indrid tosses away his shirt and jacket. 

“And the teasing me under the table?”

“As if you were not doing the same.” Indrid grins as he steps out of his pants

“And the tellin the waiter that we were celebrating, ‘the first time Duck got a tailjob?”

Indrid magics his boxer briefs away, “alright, that one was to get a rise out of you, my sweet little duckling.”

“Thought so.” With that, Duck shoves him backwards and roughly flips him onto his stomach on the bed.

“Hands and knees, I ain’t through disiplinin you. Just gotta wash my hands first.”

Indrid purrs, tail twitching excitedly, as Duck heads into the bathroom, and does indeed wash his hands. Then he grabs a very special vial, making sure he uncaps before returning to the bed. 

“Eyes forward. Here’s how this is gonna go; you keep quiet and stay still like a good demon, I give you your present. You fuss, I extend the punishment. We clear?”

“Yes.” Indrid wiggles his ass. Duck brings his hand down on it, and this time the demon simply gasps and purrs before waiting for the next strike. He gives him one more on either side before tipping liquid from the vial into his palm and rubbing his hands together. 

This time, when he brings his hand down, Indrid yelps and then growls.

“Stingin more than usual?”

Indrid nods.

“Huh. Wonder why that is.” This time, he drips some holy water onto Indrid’s ass, smacks so it spatters onto more skin before rubbing over the red mark, the demon crying out in delighted pain.

Duck drips a line cross Indrid’s ass, then uses both hands, catching the demon’s ass and thighs over and over. Indrid takes it like the well-trained demon he is, trilling and purring and sighing, all of which are permissible sounds on account of how much Duck likes hearing them. When he smooths his coated hands around Indrid’s thighs, teasing dangerously close to his cock, Indrid squeaks and tries to squirm forward.

Duck grabs his tail, preventing him from moving no matter how hard he tries. 

“I told you to fuckin stay put” He tugs, hand still dripping with holy water, and Indrid wails, claws leaving ten new tears in the bed.

“And to keep that mouth of yours _shut_.” He magics a gag in place, proceeds to slap his ass so hard the handprint stays, and zeros in on that spot. The room fills with Indrid’s muffled shouts and trills, the bond fills with so much desire Duck feels light headed. And every time he makes contact, Indrid’s body still tries to creep forward, only to be stopped by Duck’s hold on his tail. The feel of him trying to escape, the knowledge that he wants to stay more than anything, and the increasingly wet sound of the cries behind the gag, is all too much for Duck’s patience. 

“You got until my fly is down to prep, and then I’m gonna fuck you no matter how bad it hurts.”

(This is as close as he gets to lie, as they both know full well all it takes is a single “stop,” or “red,” or even a hint of real fear in the bond, and he’ll stop deader than old Cotton’s heart).  
He gets his cock out and presses in without warning, finding Indrid dripping with lube. Duck waves away the gag, dumps more water onto his fingers. 

“You can make noise, but I better not hear a single fuckin c-”

“-Complaint, no, none, none at all, oh goodness, Duck, love, it feels so divinely rough, more please moOHhhnnn, fuck” he drops his forehead back to the blankets when Duck grips his hips, the water no doubt still stinging into the skin as he fucks him. 

“Thaaat’s more like it sugar, Christ, been thinking about this all night, how good your ass would feel when I was mean, when I made sure you knew damn well who you belong to.”

“Yes, it is all yours, please, please.”

“Now you remember your manners” Duck sneers, “that's my Indrid, so polite when he wants somethin’.” He stills his hips, “come on darlin, fuck yourself on me like a good little spoiled demoOHshit.” His hands hit the bed and he kisses Indrid’s tensed shoulders as the demon frantically works his hips, using his tail to stroke the base of Duck’s cock. Ducks orgasm starts building the moment the demon switches to simply bucking back and forth a short distance. 

“Duck, love, I need, I need to know, am I good? Please?”

“Yeah” Duck squeezes his eyes shut, inhales the scent of sweat and soul from the base of Indrid’s neck, “you’re good, sugar. You’re so fuckin good.” 

Indrid trills, managing to push his ass all the way back and that does him in, cumming deep and holding tight as Indrid moans under him. 

Once he pulls out, Indrid rolls over, smiling up at him. 

“Mmmmmm, do you wish to continue punishing me, my sweet? I am quite, ah, amenable to that option.” He runs a hand over his cock, pre-cum streaking his fingers and trailing on his belly. 

“Nah” Duck kisses his nose, “think it’s time for your present. Eyes shut for sec.” 

Indrid sits up, eyes closed, and waits for Duck to return. When the human drapes the leather collar over one hand and the silver leash over the other, red eyes fly back open. 

“ _Oh”_

“You like it?” 

“It is lovely. Will, ah, will you put on? Can we use it now?” His hands are flapping, tail moving faster.

“Of course, sugar.” 

Indrid kneels on the bed, humming happily s Duck secures the collar, begins kissing his face as he checks to be certain it’s not too tight. He clicks the leash into place, petting Indrid’s hair as the demon purrs. Then he slides off the bed, tugging gently so Indrid follows him. But when the demon moves to get on his knees on the floor, Duck stops him. 

“Nope, not quite.” 

With that he kneels, leash wrapped loosely around his hand, and kisses each bony hip one time.

“Wings out, hands behind you. There we go, good demon.” He runs his free hand over the bottom of the left wing, loving the transition from fluffy to smooth. When he presses his mouth the part closest to Indrid’s torso, the demon trills, spreading them wider. Slowly, Duck circles him on his knees, kissing the skin still red from the punishment and lovingly biting the skin that's not. A bite to the base of Indrid’s tail where it meets his body results in pre-cum dripping onto the floor and the tail continuing to caress him as he works his way back around to Indrid’s front. 

Sucking Indrid off is just as gratifying now as it was the first time, the demons position meaning Duck sets the pace, even as Indrid does his best to buck his hips forward with limited leverage. When the demon inevitably tips his head back to moan, Duck sets the next part of his plan into motion. 

He pulls off, yanks and shortens the leash so Indrid has no choice but to look down at him. 

“Now sugar, I’m doin’ somethin real nice for you, least you can do is pay attention.”

“Y-yes, sorry my sweet.”

Duck tugs the leash again as he licks over the head of his cock. Then he takes it as far as he can manage, and it must thoroughly surprise Indrid because he gasps, hands flying to Duck’s hair.

He instantly sits back, wiping his mouth, “y’know, I was gonna let you cum down my throat, but since you can’t control yourself, you’re gonna wait a little longer to cum.”

“But-”

Duck silences him with look, gets wide, hopeful, and hungry red eyes looking back at him. 

“C’mon.” He drags Indrid back onto the bed, magicking away his own clothes, Indrid licking his lips the instant he does. Using the leash, he tugs Indrid into position, lying on his back while the demon straddles his hips. 

“If you wanna cum, you’re gonna sink that needy ass down and show me just how much you want itSHITshit, oh _fuck_ yeah, that’s it sugar.” He tilts his hips up with a groan as the demon bounces on his cock so energetically the bedsprings can probably be heard in the next town. It only takes a few minutes before Indrid is pleading between repetitions of Duck’s name.

“Please, please, I am so close, I have been so good, I will be so good, _please_ -”

“Yeah? You gonna be good for me? Gonna behave for your, uh, master?”

Indrid whimpers, nodding and grinding his hips down and rocking frantically as white-hot lust shoots through the bond.

Duck sharply pulls the leash, hunching Indrid over.

“I asked you a question, demon.”

“Yes!” Indrid’s eyes are closed, his face tipped up as much as the collar allows, sharp teeth biting his lip. From the look of it he’s having a spiritual experience. 

Duck knows the feeling. 

“Yes, Duck, love, sweetheart, whatever you want is yours to have.”

Duck smiles, rests his other hand on his waist, “the come give me a kiss.”

Indrid drops forward with a happy trill, pressing their lips together and allowing Duck’s tongue to find his own, moaning into his mouth whenever he tugs the leash. His wings blanket them, brushing Duck’s face and body, and the closer he gets the tighter he grows, like he was made to be Duck’s. 

“Duck please” He whines, nuzzling his cheek. 

“Okay, darlin, you can cum.”

Ten seconds of frantic bucking, Indrids cock rutting against Duck’s belly, and then he’s cumming with silent cry, which gives way to rapidfire thanks and “yeses” as Duck holds him down by his ass so he can fuck up into him so roughly tears form in his glowing eyes. When he finally empties into him, Indrid collapses, weakly purring as Duck finishes and chirping pathetically when Duck adds a final few hard thrusts.

“Gotta make sure it’s in deep, so you feel it longer.” He grins before pulling out with a grunt. 

“Mmhmmm” Indrid rubs his face along Duck’s shoulder, and as Duck holds him he notices swirls of black and green light lazily dissipating in the room, radiating want and love as they do.

“We spilled outta the bond again.”

“Mmm, well the, the bedroom has seen worse than some traces of rogue magic.”

“Guess it has. You sit tight, I’m gonna go get you a few things.”

“Hurry back” Indrid murmurs as Duck hops of the bed. He has to wave a stray wisp of magic away on his way to the dresser, where he keeps his aftercare supplies. The strange spilling over of the soul bond isn’t purely sex related--it happened last week when he and Indrid were curled up on the couch, laughing about some work story--but it’s becoming a common post-sex sight.

It’s not the only change he’s noticed over the last year. While he can’t do it for everyone the way a demon can, Duck has learned the scent of Indrid’s soul; ozone and the ash of disaster, burning sugar, old paper, and the echo of the Monongahela in the summertime, which Indrid insists is a scent in Duck’s soul as well. 

He can sense it now, the way it mingles with his own in the room and under his skin, the same way he can still sense the edges of Indrid’s power and soul where they meet his own. Smiles at the happiness that pours through the bond as he tends to Indrid’s sore spots, grooms down his feathers, feeds him candy while helping him into his pajamas. Gradually, the demon comes fully back to earth, chattering about new illustration projects and his excitement to get out the Halloween decorations. 

As they’re settling into bed, the demon pulls Duck into his arms, trailing kisses from his jaw all the way down his neck, inhaling with a happy sigh. 

“Anglin for a taste of my soul?” Duck teases.

“Of course.” Indrid smiles at him, so many promising futures written into the expression that Duck has to stop to kiss him once before replying. 

“Don’t think you gotta settle for a taste, sugar. The whole damn thing is yours, same as my heart. And it always will be”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This was so much fun to write, thank you to everyone who read it!


End file.
